


As Black As My Love’s Heart

by Constantius



Series: Double Trouble [4]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: AU, Enemies to Lovers, Evil Duplicates, F/M, Post-Apocalypse, The Upside Down
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 19:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22163425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Constantius/pseuds/Constantius
Summary: A “Mirror Universe” tale inspired by homicidalbrunette’s Double Trouble AU series and following directly from the events of the story Twisted Sister.An evil reflection of Eleven comes to Hawkins intending to open a Gate and release the Upside Down into our world.  El, Kali and Mike foil her plan, but in the process the Gate explodes and Mike and the evil Eleven are pulled into the Upside Down.  Now these two enemies must work together if they want to survive in a post-apocalyptic wasteland.  They also have to face the reality that in every universe, Mike loves Eleven and Eleven loves Mike.The first story in an enemies to lovers series.  Mileven but not Mileven.  Mainly angst, plot and action, with fluff toward the end.  Rated T for language and some violence.
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler, evil!El/Mike Wheeler
Series: Double Trouble [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1110156
Comments: 220
Kudos: 104





	1. Not In Kansas Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> One of my favorite episodes of Star Trek: TOS was Mirror, Mirror. The crew of the Enterprise find themselves in an alternate universe that is much like their own, but each of them has an evil doppelganger and the United Federation of Planets is now the oppressive Terran Empire. Some of the relationships carry over in the Mirror Universe (evil Kirk and evil Spock are friends just like in the main universe) while others don’t (evil Chekhov tries to assassinate Kirk). The Mirror Universe was so popular that it showed up in later Trek series including DS9, Enterprise and Discovery.
> 
> So you can imagine my delight when I found the Double Trouble series by the very talented writer homicidalbrunette. Double Trouble brings the concept of evil doubles from an alternate universe to Stranger Things. It creates a world where Eleven never escaped from the Lab and Mike, Lucas, Will and the rest of the Hawkins kids are also test subjects with superpowers. Raised by Dr. Brenner, they all become quite evil and eventually open a gate that lets the Upside Down into their world. Then these evil doppelgangers find their way into our world...
> 
> When I read the series, a hundred ideas popped into my head. In particular, I was struck by the interaction between the evil Eleven and the good Mike Wheeler. I found I wanted to do a Mileven enemies-to-lovers story that has some connection to the ST canon universe and is not completely AU. This seemed like a perfect opportunity. I reached out to homicidalbrunette and they were gracious enough to let me do an extension of their AU with this story about Mike and evil Eleven. I’ve changed a few things - evil Eleven dies at the end of Twisted Sister and that would kind of ruin my storyline...
> 
> For those who are reading my Special series, have no fear, I am super committed to it and will be updating as frequently as ever. It’s just that I got this story stuck in my head and I need to get it out, so I’ll be multi-tasking...
> 
> Finally, please don’t fret when you read the first part of this chapter. Of course El isn’t dead, regardless of what Mike may think.
> 
> The Double Trouble series (link below) and other works by homicidalbrunette are posted here on AO3 and you should do yourself a favor and give them a read.
> 
> [Double Trouble.](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1110156)

Mike Wheeler woke up with snow under his cheek and dead grass knotted in his fists.A frigid wind wormed under his t-shirt and stroked his skin with icy fingers.

He sat up, shivering.A part of his mind saw that he was in a field dotted with patches of snow, and there were hills nearby and mountains in the distance.The grass in the field was short and yellow and dead.Desert shrubs with small leaves and long thorns peeked through the snow.The sun was setting and the horizon glowed orange and pink, shifting to deep blue in the sky above.

He saw all this and he didn’t see it.The only thing he really saw was a memory of flame and the only thing he knew was that El was dead.

He stood, brushing the snow from his blue jeans.Snow.That was strange.It was summer, as far as he knew.It was time for t-shirts and swimming pools and cold lemonade to beat back the heat.But Mike’s teeth were chattering and his fingers and toes were like ice.

The last thing he remembered was the fire.

It happened in the Laboratory of course.Everything bad in Mike’s life - and the one thing that was so very good - came from the Lab.All four of them had been there.Mike, and El, and Kali, and the demon dressed in black who wore Eleven’s face and claimed her name.

He remembered a struggle.There was a gunshot and blood, and the room quaking as the Gate went unstable.

The great red tear in reality pulsed and hummed as the three Talents struggled to control it.The thing that called herself Eleven clutched her bleeding leg and screamed, “Stop fighting me or we’ll all die!”

El and Kali didn’t stop.The monstrous Eleven wanted to open the Gate.She wanted to spill the monsters of the Upside Down into the world to pillage and murder and destroy until there was nothing left.El and Kali fought to close the portal but the dark Eleven was so strong.Their only hope was that the evil thing was dying, bleeding out on the floor.

As the Talents battled, Mike stood helplessly on the sidelines.He was nothing but a bystander as his girlfriend fought to save the world.

The Gate shuddered.The back and forth, the push and pull, was too much for it.“Stop!” screamed the dark Eleven.Then the Gate detonated and there was flame.The last thing Mike saw before it all went black was the fire washing over El and Kali.

Now he was in a field and it was winter and he was cold.

He started to cry.He stood in the field, hugging himself against the cold and the grief, and he cried because El was dead.There would never be anything good in his life again.Mike knew that from now on his days would be lived in shadow, sleepwalking through the world, forever thinking of the way it could have been.The way it should have been.

He couldn’t stop shivering.He wanted to sit down and wait until the cold took him entirely.It would lead him back into blackness and a quiet sleep with no dreams and no awakening.

A moan reached his ears and brought him back to himself.He wiped his eyes and looked around.

There was a house across the field.It was low, rambling and weather-beaten.It looked like it had been empty for some time.A pick-up truck rusted on the grass nearby.Farther away, someone had raised a lonely cross on a hilltop in a mute testimony of faith.

The moan came again, quieter now, barely a murmur.Mike followed the sound behind a stand of high grass and shrubs.Bile filled his mouth.

It was her.The Eleven who wasn’t Eleven.She was lying on her back, eyes closed, bleeding out in the snow.

She looked just like El.

There was no mistaking her for El, of course.Mike’s El, the real El, dressed in soft, frilly things and wore her hair full and bouncy.She glowed with love for the world around her.This dark Eleven was dressed in black from her combat boots to her jeans to her motorcycle jacket.She wore her hair short and slicked it back.She had El’s face but there was a hardness there, something full of bitterness and anger.

Blood leaked from the bullet wound in her leg, staining the snow crimson.

She was unconscious.She was dying.

_Let her_ , a voice said in his mind. _Let the bitch die._

Mike crouched beside her.He could save her.

_El was dead._

First he’d have to tourniquet the leg, then extract the bullet.Clean the wound, switch to direct pressure, then bandage when he could.

_El was dead.El died because of her._

Mike started to cry again, looking at this evil thing with his love’s face.She was alive and El was dead and it wasn’t _right_.Why would God take something so good and leave the world with this filth, this dark imitation that couldn’t hold a candle to the real thing?

He should let her bleed out or freeze to death and that would be fair.She had it coming.

Then there would be nothing left of Eleven in this world or any other.

He wiped his eyes.

God, she looked just like El.

She’d called him Twelve, back at the Byers’ house.It seemed there was a Mike Wheeler in her world and he was a Talent and a nasty piece of work besides.The dark Eleven seemed fond of him.She didn’t love him, of course, because this twisted thing couldn’t love.

He watched her blood seep into the snow.She murmured again, a soft whisper of nonsense words.Her lips were blue and her face was very pale.

_Leave her.Let her die in the snow.It’s all she deserves._

He took off his belt and wrapped it around her leg.Mike Wheeler had never let someone die, and she was the only reminder of El that he had left.

When he tightened the belt around her thigh she moaned again.She murmured, over and over, waving her hands feebly, but her eyes stayed closed.He cinched the belt tight and the blood slowed to a trickle.The belt wasn’t a great tourniquet, but it was the best he could do in a frozen field in the middle of god knows where.

He picked her up, cradling her in his arms.Mike was slender but he was strong.This Eleven was small and delicate like his own El and he carried her easily across the field.

There were no lights on inside the house.The paint was peeling, the boards were old and rotted, and the windows were caked with dirt.Mike called out and only the wind answered back.He carefully set Eleven down on the porch and tried the front door.It was unlocked.He gave it a push and it creaked open.

Mike carried the unconscious girl inside.The air in the house was stale and musty.Dust covered the floor.There was furniture – chairs and a couch and a coffee table in the living room, a table and chairs in the dining room beyond.A side table by the front door held a stained stack of mail and a set of keys.

“Hello?” Mike called.There was no answer.

He carried the girl into the living room and set her down gently on the couch.It was a worn, ratty thing with stuffing poking through the upholstery.The rest of the furniture in the place was no better.Whoever lived here had not been rich.

Mike made his way down a hall, flicking light switches.Either the power was out or the bulbs were dead.The warped wooden floor creaked under his feet.

He passed several small bedrooms, then came to a large room that must be the master.Next to it was a large bathroom; he went inside and rummaged through the medicine cabinet and under the sink.He heaved a sigh of relief when he found bandages, gauze, scissors and rubbing alcohol.

In the kitchen he found bowls, old cakes of soap, and running water from the sink.The faucet choked and spit at first, and the water started rusty red, but after a few moments it ran clean and very cold.Mike washed the bowls as best he could and filled one with icy water.If there was a water heater it had probably died long ago.

He went back to the couch.The girl was resting quietly.The bleeding had stopped for now, but Mike knew it would come again when he released the tourniquet.He could only hope direct pressure would be enough to stop it; if she wore the tourniquet too long, she would lose her leg and probably her life besides.

She might die anyway.

_Would that be so bad?_ he thought. _You tried to do the right thing.You tried to save her.It wouldn’t be your fault that she was too far gone._

He took his belt off her leg and the blood seeped, staining the cushions of the couch.The imitation Eleven started murmuring again.

The gunshot wound was halfway up her left thigh, obscured by her black, blood-soaked jeans.Mike opened the button at her waist and pulled down her zipper, then worked the pants down her legs.She had flaring hips like his own El and it took some tugging and twisting before he could slide the jeans to her knees.

Of course her panties were black.

He examined the wound.It was ragged and torn, but he was relieved to see the bullet had passed through the leg instead of lodging inside.The bleeding was bad but already slower than when he’d found her in the field.His best guess was that the bullet had nicked a vein but not severed it.Pressure might do the trick.

When he poured alcohol on the wound she moaned loudly.Her eyes fluttered open but they were unfocused, confused.“Twelve?” she whispered.She reached for him with a trembling hand. “Twelve?”Then her eyes closed again.

Mike sat with her, keeping pressure on the wound with a bath towel.It took a while, but the bleeding finally slowed enough that he could put on a bandage.

He used what was left of the daylight to search the house.As he feared, the electricity was out and the gas too.The boiler and the water heater were down and there was no way to restart them.The refrigerator held the desiccated remains of something that might have been fruit or bread or meat.Whatever it was must have been there for at least a year.

He found sweat pants and flannel shirts and heavy coats in the closets.There were quilts and blankets also that he piled on the bed in the master. One of the blankets caught his eye.It was blue and white, embroidered with little whales.

_El would have liked that_ , Mike thought. _She always liked whales._

He sobbed.

The sound burst from him without warning.All he felt was loss.His knees buckled and he collapsed next to the bed, burying his face in the blanket and staining it with tears.

She was gone.El was gone.She’d always laughed when she saw whales on television, delighted by the big graceful creatures.She’d talked about taking a trip to see them in Iceland.Mike promised her they’d go, someday, when they were older and had enough money.

They’d never go now.El would never see the whales.She’d never laugh or watch television or do anything else ever again.

Mike didn’t know how long he knelt by the bed, crying.When he finally came back to himself, it was dark and very cold.He went back to the living room.The sun had dropped below the horizon, but the moon cast just enough light for him to see the girl’s face.

He’d kept her alive, for now, this monster who looked like El.As night fell and the temperature dropped, he’d have to keep her alive again.

He took off her combat boots and peeled the blood-soaked jeans off her legs.He gently washed the blood from her skin and then dressed her in sweatpants and warm woolen socks.He carried her through the dark house into the master bedroom and laid her on the bed, heaping blankets and quilts over her small form.He kicked off his shoes and pulled on a flannel shirt, then slid into the bed beside her.

The house was freezing, but under the blankets their body heat kept them warm.It would be enough to make it to morning.

Mike looked at her face.El’s face.He couldn’t imagine what she would do when she woke.She could kill him with a thought.She probably would.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her soft body against him, hungry for every bit of warmth they could give each other.He fell asleep in a cold room in a lonely old house, holding a girl who would never, ever be his El.

* * *

El sobbed as she sat in the ruins of the Lab, looking at the black, twisted scar that was all that remained of the Gate.Kali rubbed her back, trying to soothe her.It was no good.El didn’t think she’d ever stop crying.

There had been an explosion and fire had washed across the room.El had used her powers to create a shield, a bubble of force that kept the flames from her and from Kali.El had tried so hard to wrap the shield around Mike, but in the chaos she’d lost track of him.

When the flames cleared, the Gate was closed and the room was empty.The impostor, the evil thing that wore El’s face, was gone.

Mike was gone too.He’d disappeared into the Upside Down when the Gate exploded.

If he wasn’t dead now, he would be soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The medical scenes in this tale are based on “action movie science” and for the most part things don’t work that way in the real world. That said, I’m serving up transdimensional monsters, evil doppelgangers and kids getting superpowers in government labs, so I hope you’ll humor me when I occasionally stretch reality to serve the story.


	2. The Land of Enchantment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone and welcome to the next chapter of As Black. Last chapter, evil!El spent her time unconscious, but now it’s time for her to start interacting with Mike. Let the Enemies-to-Lovers journey begin… with the Enemies part.
> 
> Let me take this moment to give a huge shout out and thank you to homicidalbrunette, who was kind enough to beta this chapter. It’s a pleasure to collaborate with such a talented and imaginative writer and I’m really pleased to be able to play in their world. Check the link to other works by homicidalbrunette in the Chapter 1 Author’s Note!

Mike woke with El in his arms.He sighed happily.His face was cold – in fact the bedroom was freezing – but it was toasty warm under the covers.Sometime in the night he and El had ended up spooning and he was hugging her little body tightly against him.She was warm and soft and her hair tickled his nose.

He realized he had his usual... morning condition and El’s delightful behind was pressed up against it.He stroked a hand down her side to her hip, pleasant thoughts dancing through his sleep-fogged mind.

El stirred beside him, shifting her hips to push harder against his erection.“Twelve,” she murmured.

Mike’s eyes widened and the memories of the day before crashed over him.In an instant he was fully awake.

This wasn’t the cabin.This wasn’t El’s bed.

This wasn’t El.

The girl must have felt him stiffen, because she was turning in his arms, confusion on her face.“Twelve…?” she began and then she blinked the sleep away.She looked at Mike and gasped.

“What the fuck?” she screamed.With one wave of her hand, she hurled Mike from the bed, slamming him hard into the wall.He collapsed in a heap on the floor, groaning.

“You fucking worm!” she shrieked, this demon who wore El’s face.“You fucking little perv!How dare you?”Mike felt a band of force wind around his neck and she slammed him into the wall again, pinning him there.He clawed uselessly at his throat, trying to speak, but all that came out was a choking rattle.

The dark Eleven started to get out of bed but hissed as the effort strained her injured leg.The grip on Mike’s neck weakened and he gasped for breath.

“Stop!” he gurgled.“I didn’t—”The grip tightened again, cutting him off.

“You little shit!” Eleven snarled.She moved again, more carefully this time, and eased herself off the bed.Her leg was shaky and she could barely stand.“I hope you got a good feel, because it’s the last thing you’ll ever do!”

With a nod of her head, Eleven yanked him from the wall.Her mind dragged him across the floor and in a moment he was on his knees in front of her.She wrapped a hand in his thick hair and jerked his head back, getting a better look at his face.Mike strained to rise, to move his arms, but her power held him in a vise.

“You look just like him,” she said.“But you’re not.You’re nothing like him.”

“You’ve got that right,” Mike said through gritted teeth.From the little this dark Eleven had told him, Mike didn’t want to be anything like the boy she called Twelve.

She smiled coldly.“For a moment I thought you were him.But you’re from the soft world.You’re weak.Just like that whimpering whore who looks like me.”

“Weak?She did a pretty good job kicking your ass,” Mike sneered.He knew the girl was going to punish him for that, but he didn’t care.He wasn’t going to let this monster talk about El that way.

The girl’s power surged around him.His arms twisted behind his back in ways they were never meant to do.It felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets.

“I’m going to kill you,” the dark Eleven said calmly, “and I want you to know that I’m going to kill her too.But before I do, I’m going to make her suffer.”

_She doesn’t know_ , Mike thought. _She doesn’t know El is already dead._

He wouldn’t tell her.Fuck if he would give her the satisfaction.

“I knew it,” Mike spit, his face screwed up in pain, “I knew I should have let you bleed out in the snow.You fucking bitch.”

She frowned.“What are you talking about?”

“You think you’re the one who bandaged that leg?” he rasped.“You think it’s an accident you didn’t freeze to death?I found you passed out in the snow, dying.I should have left you there.”

Eleven looked down, as if noticing for the first time that she was wearing sweatpants instead of her black jeans.She gently touched her leg, feeling the bandage over her wound.“You did this?”

“Yes,” Mike said bitterly.“I guess no good deed goes unpunished.”

“We always had Fourteen heal us when we were hurt,” the dark Eleven mused.“How do you know how to take care of a wound?”

Mike shrugged, though it hurt like hell with his arms twisted.“I took some courses.Paramedic and first responder stuff.After the _third time_ my friends and I fought the Upside Down, it seemed like a good idea.”

The dark Eleven stared at him thoughtfully while he ground his teeth against the pain in his arms and shoulders.

“Beg me,” she said.

“What?”

“Beg me to spare your life.”

“Fuck you, bitch – aah!”Mike almost fell over as her mind twisted his arms further, so close to dislocating his shoulders.

“Beg me.”

“Fine!” he shouted.“Fine!Would you please, please… kiss my ass.”

Shock and fury twisted her face.The force tightened around him and he groaned.The pain was so intense that for a second he thought he would black out.He forced himself to look up at her, this twisted reflection of the girl he loved.

“I won’t give you the satisfaction,” he hissed.“You’re going to kill me anyway, so kill me, bitch.Have fun sleeping next to my corpse.I hope it keeps you warm.”

Even through his pain and hatred, standing at the end of his life, Mike felt a fierce surge of happiness. _It won’t be long, El,_ he thought. _I’ll see you soon_.

For a moment the dark Eleven stared at him as his face contorted in pain.She seemed to be thinking.Her features relaxed, the rage trailing away.

She smiled.“I’m impressed.Maybe there’s a little Twelve in you after all.”

The force around Mike vanished and he collapsed to the floor, gasping.He groaned, stretching his tortured arms.

“You make a good point,” she said, standing over him as he moaned on the floor.“You could be useful.At least until we find Fourteen.Congratulations, _Mike_ ,” she sneered the name, “I’m going to let you live.For now.”

He struggled to his hands and knees and then suddenly fell on his side, crying out in agony.The ring finger on his left hand was bending back at a terrible angle under the power of Eleven’s mind.

“Now say thank you,” she told him.

“What?” he gasped, clutching at his hand.

“Thank me for not killing you.”

Mike ground his teeth and then whispered, “Thank you.”

“Good boy,” she smiled.“Now say you’re sorry.”

“For what?” he demanded.

“For calling me a bitch.”

“You are a bitch,” he spit and then he screamed as his finger bent further.

Eleven knelt next to him.She stroked his face gently and looked at him with big, soft, dark eyes.“I’ll break it, Mike.You can’t need all ten fingers to take care of my wound.”

“I’m sorry,” he gasped.“I’m sorry.”

“See?” she smiled.“That wasn’t so hard.”

She released him and Mike jerked his hand against his chest.He gingerly felt his aching finger; it hurt, but it wasn’t broken.After a moment he pulled himself to his feet.

The dark Eleven tried to rise from her crouch but winced in pain, grabbing at her leg.She glared at Mike.“Help me up.”

He stretched out a hand.Eleven gripped it, wincing and hissing as he pulled her to her feet.For a moment they stood there, his hand wrapped around hers, and Mike couldn’t help thinking that it felt just like El’s hand – small, soft, with delicate little fingers.He let go like it was burning him.

Eleven glanced around the room.“Where are my jeans?”

“I left them in the living room.They were soaked with blood.”

“So you took them off and put me in these sweatpants?”She smirked.“Did you get a good look, Mike?”

“I didn’t look!” he said angrily.“I had other things to worry about, like trying to save your life.”

If anything, her smirk got bigger.“Twelve would have looked.”She shook her head and sighed.“You really are nothing compared to him.It’s almost an insult that a worm like you has his face.”

“Is that right?” Mike snapped.“How many times has _he_ saved your life?”

She scowled at him and then waved a dismissive hand.

It was so satisfying to wipe that smirk off her face.That face that looked like El’s.

She looked around the room again.“Where are we?What is this place?”

“I don’t know,” Mike admitted.She raised an eyebrow and he went on.“It’s not Hawkins.There are hills and mountains nearby, and it’s really cold.I think it might be winter, but I don’t understand how that could be.And this place…” he shrugged.“It looks like it’s someone’s house, but I don’t think they’ve been here for a long time.”

The dark Eleven was quiet, thinking.There was a little crinkle in her brow right above her nose, just like the one El used to get when she was concentrating.It sent a sliver of pain burrowing into Mike’s heart.He’d never see that crinkle on El’s face again, not the real El.He’d only see it like this, on the face of this dark, pathetic imitation.

“Help me walk,” Eleven said at last.“Show me the house.”

Mike reluctantly stepped to her side and put out his arm.She gripped it, her shoulder brushing against him.

“Don’t try anything stupid,” she warned.“I’ll kill you if I have to.”

Mike took her around the house.She could walk reasonably well, able to put weight on her leg and only occasionally needing to lean on him for support.Mike showed her the bedrooms, pointing out the closets with clothes and blankets.Then he took her into the kitchen, turning on the faucet to show her they had running water.

“No power though,” he said.“I think the electricity and the heat are long gone.”

Eleven nodded, peering around the room, thinking again.Mike got the impression that something about this seemed familiar to her.

He took her to the living room next.She let go of his arm and limped over to the window.She pointed at the floor, where her black jeans lay in a blood-soaked pile.“You can clean those for me later,” she told him.

Mike didn’t say anything.He went to the side table by the front door.There was a set of keys there and some mail.He picked up the key ring; it was mainly short, stubby house keys but one was long and slender with a square base.

“This looks like a car key,” he said.“It must be to that rusted old pickup truck outside.”

Eleven kept staring out the window and didn’t answer.

Mike flipped through the mail.The envelopes were old and stained.They’d been opened, no doubt by whoever used to live here.Most of them were addressed to someone named John Ortega, though there were a few glossy clothes catalogues for an Anita Ortega.The street address was County Road 87, Chimayo, New Mexico.

One of the envelopes looked like a tax bill.The return address was a government office in Santa Fe.The envelope had a seal stamped on it:two eagles, a serpent and a cactus.Underneath the seal was a motto that read, _New Mexico, the Land of Enchantment._

“New Mexico?” Mike wondered.“How in the world did we end up here?”

Eleven looked at him sharply.Then she looked out the window again.

Mike finished flipping through the mail, but he couldn’t find anything to tell him how he’d traveled over a thousand miles from home.

“This is my world,” Eleven said at last.

Mike frowned.“Are you sure?”

“Look at the sky.Doesn’t it seem… darker… to you?Like something is filtering the light.Like a hint of smoke without it actually being smoke.”

Mike joined her at the window and peered out.He shrugged.“I don’t know.Maybe.”

Eleven nodded, smiling.“I can feel it,” she said.“The taint.This is my world.The place you call the Upside Down.”

Mike didn’t know what to say.This twisted, dark Eleven seemed happy at the thought.He remembered that she’d wanted to release the Upside Down into his world, ruin it, turn it into a place like her own.

Eleven turned away from the window and faced him.“You said there was a truck.Let’s go see it. But first…”

She reached into her black leather jacket and unzipped an inner pocket.She pulled out a balled-up wad of leather and handed it to him.“Put this on,” she said.

It was a collar.

It was leather and sized for a human’s neck.There were ties at the back and a small metal ring at the front.

Mike looked at her in disbelief.“I’m not going to—” he began, but she put a gentle finger over his lips and shook her head.

“Mike,” she smiled, and there was nothing friendly in that curve of her lips.“In this world, people with power – the Talents – are served by people like you.”

He remembered the words she’d said to him when they were in Hawkins, when he’d foolishly taken her to the Byers’ house. _We keep your kind in chains_ , she’d told him. _We ride you like ponies._

“Put it on,” she said.“You belong to me now.”

He swallowed hard.

“You’ve been doing so well, Mike,” she said playfully.“Don’t make me hurt you again.”

Mike stared at the collar.

He should spit in her face, he told himself.He should throw the collar at this evil bitch and tell her to go fuck herself.He should bring things to a head, force Eleven to decide whether she was going to kill him or treat him like a goddamn human being.Mike started to close his hand around the collar and then he paused.

It wouldn’t bring things to a head, he realized.She’d just torture him some more, maybe break a few of his fingers.This dark Eleven probably knew dozens of ways to hurt someone without killing them.

It wasn’t the right moment.He should wait.

She had to sleep sometime.

_I’ll remember this, bitch,_ he promised her in his mind. _One day soon I’m going to take this collar and strangle you with it.I don’t care if you look like El._

Burning with humiliation, he wrapped the collar around his neck and tied it.

“Oh, don’t look so hurt,” she said, her voice teasing.“It looks good on you.And it might just keep you alive.Most people know not to hurt someone who belongs to a Talent.Now, just one more thing…”

She reached into her pocket again and pulled out a leather cord.It was about a yard long.She tied it into the metal ring on Mike’s collar, grinning up at him as she did so.He wouldn’t look at her, not wanting to see her eyes even though they looked like El’s.

“There,” she said, taking the end of the cord in her hand.“That’s so I can keep you close if I need to.I’m sure you know it’d be foolish to run – I don’t have to be near you to kill you.But… sometimes I might want to be extra sure you don’t wander off.”

Mike stared at her now, hating this person with her teasing and smiling who looked so much like El.

Eleven gestured at the front door.“Let’s go outside and see if that truck can get us to Hawkins.It will be so good to be back home.” 


	3. My Hands Are Tied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again and welcome to another chapter of As Black. I’m sorry this one took longer than usual. I’m afraid work has been intruding and will probably keep intruding for the next three weeks. Updates on this story and my other fic When He Was Special may be a bit slow during that time. 
> 
> On the bright side, this chapter is longer than the first two...
> 
> This update continues the Enemies part of this Enemies to Lovers tale. I think this will turn out to be the low water mark in the Mike/evil!El relationship. The two still have a long way to go to reach their Lovers destination, but they should be on an upward trajectory from here (of course with plenty of problems and setbacks).
> 
> Once again let me express my deepest gratitude to my wonderful and talented collaborator and beta homicidalbrunette. Her work inspired this tale and I can only hope it’s a worthy addition to the universe she created.

Mike cranked the ignition one more time and then shook his head. “Battery’s dead. No surprise, I guess. There’s also two flat tires and who knows if there’s any gas in the tank.”

Eleven frowned, her eyes roaming the cab of the old pickup. “I never understood these machines. You Normals always claim they were so useful, but I’ve never seen one that was worth a damn.”

Mike glared at her. It was stupid to get defensive over something as silly as the utility of an automobile, but he couldn’t help it. Everything she said and did rubbed him the wrong way. That happened when someone put a collar around your neck and treated you like property.Eleven had decided he was something between a servant and a slave and he couldn’t wait to make her regret it.

A perfect example – she made him tie her bootlaces before they went outside. She claimed doing it herself would strain the gunshot wound. She was almost certainly right, but something in the tone of her voice made it all feel demeaning anyway.

“Trucks are useful,” Mike snapped, “when people take care of them. But apparently no one takes care of anything in your world.”

Eleven laughed scornfully. “Don’t be snippy, Mike. It’s not even your truck and you’re getting defensive. What, are you having your period or something?”

“Oh, fuck you,” he said and then he hissed in pain as she bent his finger back with her mind. “Ahhh, sorry! I’m sorry!”

She released him and he gasped, clutching his hand.

“Be careful, Mike,” Eleven said, “or one of these times I’m going to forget you’re useful. Speaking of which… is there anything worthwhile in this piece of junk?”

Mike looked around the cab as he shook the feeling back into his finger. There was nothing obvious. He reached across Eleven to pop open the glove compartment, earning him a suspicious eyebrow. There was nothing inside but an old owner’s manual and an insurance card. Then he reached under the driver’s seat and his hand brushed against a thick, spiral-bound book.

He pulled it free. It had a red cover with a title that read, _Road Atlas of New Mexico_. The splash blurb on the back promised, _A comprehensive guide including unpaved roads, boat ramps, campgrounds, parks and more!_

“This might be helpful,” he said, flipping the pages.

“Let me see,” Eleven told him.

As she paged through the book, Mike looked out at the mountains. The distance turned them blue except for the glowing white of their snow-capped peaks. He searched the sky. It was darker than he’d expected, hazier somehow, like the light was filtered through smoke or pollution. Eleven claimed that was proof they were in the Upside Down. Mike was starting to think she was right.

“When we were in my world, I remember you drove a car,” he said at last. “You used your mind to move it. Could you do that with this truck?”

Eleven snorted. “You want me to use my powers on this pile of rust? By the time we’d gone ten miles I’d be—” She stopped abruptly. She went back to flipping through the atlas like she hadn’t said anything.

“You’d be what?” Mike asked.

Eleven shrugged. “Nothing. I was thinking of something else.”

Mike nodded, letting it drop, but his mind raced. His El – _the real El_ – always had her limits. She was like a battery and she could get drained if she used her power too much. Mike gathered that this dark Eleven was more powerful than El, but presumably she had her limits too.

Eleven closed the atlas. “This actually could be useful. Good work, Mike.” The words were nice but the sneer in her voice belied them.

“You’re welcome,” he said. The sneer in his voice earned him a sharp look.

They got out of the truck. Mike frowned, pointing at the far side of the field. Two humped shapes lay on the ground.

“What do you think that is?” he asked.

* * *

Whoever they were, they were long dead. There wasn’t much left but bone and tattered remnants of clothing. Mike couldn’t tell how long they might have been there; the dry desert air preserved things.

There were two of them. Mike could make out scraps of a plaid shirt and jeans on one, a blue floral dress on the other. Their shoes were still in decent shape and there was the glimmer of a belt buckle and a necklace. They had puncture holes in their skulls and scored grooves across their bones, like the marks of many teeth.

The marks of a demogorgon’s teeth.

Mike pulled a wallet from the man’s rotting pocket. Inside were a few tattered twenty dollar bills, some credit cards and a New Mexico drivers license.

“John Ortega,” Mike murmured. He dropped the wallet beside the skeleton and sighed. “I’m guessing the other one is Anita.”

Eleven looked around. “There’s just the two of them,” she said. Her voice was calm, unfazed by the bodies. “But there are children’s bedrooms in the house.”

Mike shrugged. “Maybe the kids were at school when this happened. Or maybe they got away.”

“They wouldn’t have gotten away.”

“How do you know?”

“When a demogorgon finds you, you don’t get away,” Eleven said.“Not unless you’re a Talent.”

Mike stared at her, taking in her impassive face and her cold, emotionless voice. “What happened here?” he asked.

“We set them loose,” Eleven said, but she wasn’t really talking to him. She was talking to the air, the horizon. “My friends and I.It was two years ago. We released MKUltra’s creatures into the world and we let them burn it to the ground.”

Mike gestured at the skeletons. “You did this?”

She shook her head. “Personally? No. But I made it happen. Brenner forced my friends and I to open one of his precious Gates and we let Hell into the world. Then we set it loose.”

Mike searched her face, letting the tone of her words sink in. There was something there, something in her voice… “You’re not sorry,” he said at last. “You’re… proud.”

Eleven’s eyes snapped to him. “Do you know what they did to me in that lab, Mike? Did ‘El’ ever tell you?”

He could feel the rage radiating from her. “She told me some of it. She doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“I’m sure,” Eleven sneered. “How old was your precious little El when she escaped the lab?”

Mike brushed past the disdain in her voice.“She was twelve.”

“Twelve,” the girl murmured, banking her anger and letting it go quiet for a moment. “That’s when it started to get bad. The power blossoms at puberty and that’s when Brenner...” Eleven took a deep breath. “If she escaped when she was twelve, she missed the worst.”

Mike didn’t say anything.

“I didn’t leave the lab until I was sixteen. They… did things… to me in there. And they regretted it. I made them regret it. My friends and I ruined this world, Mike. It got what it deserved.”

He nodded, watching the dark Eleven, watching the hate and the rage that stormed around her. He was a gentle boy, and some part of him wanted to pity her, but people were dead because of this girl and El was one of them.

“I’m sorry for what happened to you,” he said. “But... destroying the world?The people in it?”

“They deserved it,” she hissed.

Mike gestured at the two skeletons laying in the field.“What did John and Anita Ortega do to you? Why did they deserve it?”

Eleven stared at him, her eyes filled with bitterness. “They let it happen,” she said at last.“They didn’t do anything to stop it.”

Mike didn’t know what to say. He and Eleven stood in the field and the chill wind whipped around them.

* * *

When they were back inside the house, Mike took Eleven’s boots off. She shifted anxiously as he pulled slippers on her feet.

“Hurry up,” she said, “I have to pee.”

Once the slippers were on, she set off down the hall for the bathroom. She paused when he didn’t follow. “What are you waiting for?” she asked.

“You want me to come with you?” Mike said, surprised.

“I’m going to keep you near,” she told him. “I’ve owned Normals before and you have the look of one who’s going to run. You haven’t been broken, Mike. Not yet.”

He ground his teeth but said nothing. He followed Eleven to the bathroom.

“Wait outside the door,” she told him, “and you’d better stay there. Don’t go wandering off. If you try to run, I’ll make you regret it.”

She turned on the water in the bathroom sink and started to shut the door but paused at the surprise on Mike’s face.

Of all the things to be bashful about, Eleven didn’t want him to hear her go. She ran water to cover the noise.

She saw the way he looked at the sink and her face hardened.

“I was poked and prodded by doctors and scientists and _creeps_ for sixteen years, Mike,” she snapped. “There wasn’t an hour they weren’t watching me. So you’ll have to forgive me if these days I like my fucking privacy.”

She slammed the door in his face.

Mike sighed and leaned against the wall, waiting. There was nothing but the sound of running water in the sink and then she flushed. He heard her washing her hands and then she turned the water off and opened the door.

“My turn,” Mike said.

“Really?” she said, with a raised eyebrow.

“I can go on the floor if you prefer.”

Eleven waved her hand irritably and moved out of his way. Mike stepped over to the toilet and lifted the lid, then noticed she was still standing at the door.

“So I don’t get any privacy?” he asked.

She smirked. “I’m a Talent, you’re a Normal. You should get used to things not being fair.”

Mike regarded her for a moment and then shrugged. “Suit yourself.” _You want to watch, bitch? I’ll give you an eyeful_. He pulled down his zipper and reached into his pants. Eleven turned away and shut the door.

* * *

As the day wore on, they searched the closets and found jeans and shirts, socks and underwear, robes and towels. There were backpacks, a compass, and a hunting knife. They found flashlights but the batteries were long dead.

In the kitchen, Eleven pointed out the things that were useful. At her direction, Mike pulled down canned beans, a bag of rice, dried pasta. He found a can opener and the two of them started in on the beans. Mike hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours and the cold, glutinous brown mush tasted wonderful.

The ate in silence for a while and then Mike said, “The creature that killed the Ortegas… you think it was a demogorgon?”

Eleven nodded, not looking up from her can of beans.

“But you also said that it was MKUltra’s creatures that destroyed this world.”

Eleven frowned. “So?”

“So are the MKUltra creatures allied with the demogorgons? Or are they enemies?”

Eleven looked at him like he was simple-minded. “The demogorgons _are_ MKUltra creatures.”

Mike froze with a spoonful of beans halfway to his mouth. “Wha—? Are you serious?”

Now Eleven looked surprised. “Isn’t that the way in your world? Didn’t MKUltra make the demogorgons? And the Mind Flayers?”

Mike shook his head. “No. No, in my world, the demogorgons and the Mind Flayer all came from… here.” He gestured around the room. “They came through the Gate from the Upside Down. In my world, MKUltra was just Brenner’s little espionage project. I get the feeling he was as surprised as anyone when the Gate opened.” Mike ate his spoon of beans, his expression thoughtful.

Eleven had a few more bites. “MKUltra wasn’t a little espionage project in my world. They had labs in so many places. They created the demogorgons and the Mind Flayers and the demodogs. Those aren’t the official names, but it’s what we all called them. They were supposed to be weapons.”

“What happened?”

“I told you,” Eleven said. “My friends and I set them free.”

* * *

After they ate, Eleven pointed at the jeans lying in a blood-soaked pile on the living room floor. “Clean those. Make sure you get all the blood out. Then hang them to dry.”

Mike grit his teeth at the imperious tone in her voice, but she wasn’t done. “Then clean the bathtub,” she commanded. “I want it to sparkle. I haven’t had a good wash in _so_ long.”

Her tone just _grated_.

“You know what?” Mike snapped. “How about I wash the jeans and you clean the fucking bathtub?”

Then he screamed and dropped to his knees as the ring fingers on both his hands bent back at terrible angles.

“I’m getting tired of this attitude, Mike,” Eleven told him. “Do you talk to your little whore this way? Does she put up with this shit from you? Because she shouldn’t.”

Mike screamed again as the pressure got worse. He fell to his side and writhed on the ground.

“She’s got enough power to rip your spine from your back,” Eleven continued. “If she’s stupid enough to let you push her around, that’s her problem – it certainly isn’t mine.”

“I’m sorry!” Mike gasped. “I’m sorry! I’ll do it! I’ll clean the bathtub.”

Eleven smirked. “I know you will, Mike.”

* * *

When Mike was done with his tasks, he approached Eleven quietly. She was sitting in the living room on the couch, scrawling notes in the road atlas.

“Yes, Mike?” she said brightly, a thin, threatening smile etched on her face.

“The bath’s ready,” he told her. “I laid out some sponges and soap and towels. I assume you don’t actually want to get in the tub – the water’s freezing.”

She smiled again, the smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m a tough bitch, Mike,” she said, “but I’m not that tough.”

“I hung out a robe, too,” he said. His eyes flicked to the atlas lying in her lap. She’d circled a location on the map, a small city called Los Alamos. She’d scrawled the word _Gate?_ next to it.

“Los Alamos?” Mike asked. “What’s there?”

Eleven tapped the map. “MKUltra had labs everywhere. I used to hear Brenner and his scientists talk about them. They mentioned places like Montauk, Groom Lake, the Greenbrier Hotel… and Los Alamos. I never knew where any of them were. I never knew if they really even existed. Then I saw this map.”

Mike found Chimayo on the map and judged the distance. “It looks pretty close.”

“Yes.It’s about thirty miles away. We could be there in three days, depending on how my leg holds up.” She nodded, as if making a decision. “We’ll set out tomorrow.”

“Why are we going there?” Mike asked cautiously.

“You can’t really be this thick, Mike. If MKUltra did have a lab there, we might be able to find a gate scar. If I can use that to open a Gate, we can cross back into your world.”

Mike nodded, seeing her plan.“Then we could get back to Hawkins easily,” he said. “We could drive, take a train…”

His voice trailed off. El and Kali had tried so hard to defeat this monstrous Eleven and keep her from opening a Gate in Hawkins. Did he really want to be responsible for helping her get back to his world? With El gone – _not gone, dead_ – the dark Eleven would be hard to stop.

Kali probably couldn’t do it on her own.

Mike’s heart sank.Saving Eleven’s life was rapidly turning out to be the worst decision he’d ever made.

“And just think, when we’re back in your world, you can be reunited with your El,” Eleven said. Her voice dripped with scorn. “Won’t that be nice?”

She watched him for a reaction but he didn’t say anything. Finally she held out her hand.“Help me to the bathroom.”

Mike lent Eleven his arm as she limped down the hallway and into the master bath. He steadied her as she sat on the rim of the tub, and at a gesture he helped her first with her sweatpants and then her shirt. He tried to keep his hands on the clothing, not wanting to touch her, but at one point he grazed her calf and then later the velvety skin over her ribs. The contact burned on his fingertips. Eleven’s eyes met his at each touch, but she didn’t say anything.

Mike’s throat tightened at the vision of her perched on the bathtub in her lacy black panties and bra. Her smooth ivory skin and soft curves were like a knife in his heart. She looked so much like El he wanted to weep.

For a moment she regarded him. Then she picked up a sponge and dipped it in the water-filled tub. “You can go now,” she told him. “Close the door. And don’t go far.”

The last thing he saw was Eleven reaching back to unhook her bra and then he pulled the door shut.

He leaned back against the wall and covered his face with his hands. It was too much. He’d saved Eleven’s life even though she wanted to ruin his world. Now he needed to kill her but she looked so much like El and he wasn’t sure he could.

Mike heard the sound of her sponge in the water, saw her in his mind running it over her pale skin, the cold raising goosebumps wherever she touched.

He was at the front door and pulling on his coat before he really knew what he was doing. Then he was outside and running toward the distant mountains. The dry yellow grass crunched beneath his feet, the frigid air filled his lungs, and the only thing he could think about was El – his beautiful El – and how much he missed her.

When his muscles locked and his legs froze and his arms twisted behind his back, he didn’t even notice the pain. All he felt was despair.

Then Mike was sliding across the field, dragged by the power of Eleven’s mind. She wasn’t gentle. The grass whipped his face, drawing blood from little slashes like paper cuts. She pulled him through brush and brambles and the pitted ruts of the gravel driveway until he lay before her, his face just inches from her bare feet.

Her hair was wet and disheveled and she was wearing a bath robe. Her eyes were filled with cold, quiet anger.

“I can see you in the Void, Mike,” she said. Her voice was soft and all the more menacing for it. “Did you really think you could run away?”

“A guy can dream,” he groaned.

His arms twisted farther and his fingers pulled back and he cried out.

“I warned you, Mike,” she said, “I told you I’d make you regret it if you ran.”

“I’ll regret it if I stay,” he said through gritted teeth.

She nodded her head, ever so slightly, and there was so much pain. Mike felt like he was being stretched on a rack, broken on a wheel, every joint straining with pressure. The only sound that escaped his throat was a choking gurgle. Then the pain stopped and all he could do was lie on the ground, moaning with agony.

“I’ll tell you what, Mike,” Eleven said, “I’m willing to accept your apology and leave it at that.”

“I’m sorry,” he gasped.

“No, Mike,” she said lightly, “I’m afraid I’m going to need a real apology. I’m going to need you to kiss my feet to show me how sorry you are.”

His eyes widened in shock.He clawed his way through the remnants of his pain. “Are - are you serious?”

“We could do it the hard way instead,” she smiled. “It’s up to you.”

He lay on the grass, panting, unsure what to do.

“It won’t be so bad,” she said, a light, silvery laugh in her voice. “I did just wash them after all.” She flexed her delicate little toes, pale pink against the dead yellow grass.

Mike pulled himself to his hands and knees, then stared at Eleven’s dainty feet peeking out from the bottom of her robe. Humiliation coursed through his veins like acid.

 _Now you know you can’t run away,_ he told himself. _You don’t have a choice anymore._

_You have to kill her._

He dipped his head and pressed his lips to her soft ivory skin.

“Now the other one,” Eleven said.

Mike kissed her other foot. Then he stood, his face burning with shame.

“I accept your apology, Mike,” Eleven told him. She regarded him for a moment. “You know, you do have some Twelve in you.I see that now. But only a little. Twelve would die before he’d do that.”

* * *

Eleven sat on the bed as Mike set out bandages, towels and rubbing alcohol as well as a bowl of water. She was wearing a baggy grey sweatshirt and her little black panties. Mike didn’t want to look at the smooth, supple length of her leg but it was hard to avoid under the circumstances.

She watched him with a smug, teasing smile, the one that always crossed her face after she’d put him in his place. He didn’t want to look at that either.

He gently pulled off her old bandage and inspected the wound.

“It’s a little red,” he told her. “Some inflammation, but that’s not surprising. There’s no infection. So far it looks okay.”

He gently cleaned the dried blood off her skin. She might be an evil bitch who got off on hurting him, but he couldn’t bring himself to be rough with her injury. It wasn’t in his nature.

“Who is Fourteen?” he asked after a while, wanting to think about something other than her soft skin and the lacy slip of her panties.

“What?” Eleven had been watching him, following the gentle motion of his fingers on her thigh, and the question seemed to surprise her.

“This morning you said that Fourteen used to heal you.”

She nodded. “He’s a Talent. He grew up with me in the lab. His powers let him heal injuries, even serious ones. He could fix this wound in less than a minute.”

“So not all of you have powers that hurt people,” Mike said. It wasn’t really a question. There was a trace of bitterness in his voice.

Eleven’s eyes narrowed. “My powers can do a lot of things, Mike, not just hurt people. But I do what I have to do.”

“Clearly.” He picked up the bottle of rubbing alcohol. “Speaking of which, _this_ is going to hurt. But it will clean your wound and it’s necessary.”

“Don’t enjoy it too much,” she sneered.

“I don’t enjoy any of this.” He poured the alcohol over her wound and she gasped in pain, her fists knotting in the bedsheets. “Tell me more about him,” Mike said.

“What?” she hissed, her teeth gritted.

“Fourteen. Tell me more about him. It will take your mind off the pain.”

She took a deep breath. “He’s our age. His skin is dark, not pale like yours or mine. He heals, but he’s tough. A good fighter.”

“And he could heal this?” Mike asked. She’d already said so, but he thought it would distract her and keep her talking. He dabbed lightly at the wound.

“Easily. He’s very powerful.” She paused, breathing easier as the pain started to fade.When she spoke again her voice was quiet. “I like him. When they hurt me in the lab, he would make me feel better.”

Mike didn’t say anything. He dipped a towel in the water bowl and gently wiped her leg.

“There are a few things he can’t heal,” she murmured. “But only a few.”

“Like what?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

They were quiet then as Mike finished cleaning the wound.He applied a fresh bandage. Then he helped Eleven pull on a pair of sweatpants, sliding them up her pale slender legs.

He helped her off the bed and she stared at him for a moment. She gently touched the bandage through the sweatpants. Mike waited for her to sneer or mock him or make a cutting remark, but she didn’t say anything.

* * *

As afternoon stretched toward evening, Mike stocked two backpacks with clothing, food and supplies under Eleven’s watchful eye. He gathered wood from a pile at the side of the house and got a fire going in the living room’s small fireplace. He cleaned pots and then boiled water over the fire. There was a small brick of dry tea leaves in the kitchen; Mike made a few cups of tea and put the rest of the brick into his backpack.

Eleven sat on the couch and made more notes in the road atlas.

When the sun began to set, Mike cooked rice and pasta over the fire. He and Eleven didn’t talk much, both of them lost in their thoughts.

Once the sun slipped away, Mike helped her walk outside. They paced around the house and Eleven scanned the horizon.

“Are you looking for something?” Mike asked her.

“Lights,” Eleven said. “A campfire. Some sign that anyone else is here.”

There was nothing.

Mike had never seen the stars so bright and clear. For the first time in his life, there was no halo of city light to spoil the view. He had never realized just how beautiful the night sky could be.

“Let’s go back inside,” Eleven said at last. “The creatures come out at night.”

Icy chills coursed down Mike’s spine. For a moment he’d forgotten he was in the Upside Down, but the girl’s words brought him back to the dangers that lurked all about him.

“Right,” he said, “good idea.”

* * *

They crept through the dark house into the master bedroom. Eleven took the cord off Mike’s collar.

“Turn around,” she said, “and cross your hands behind your back.”

In a moment she’d wrapped the cord around his wrists and tied them together.

“What are you doing that for?” he asked, seething with anger at this new indignity.

“So I can sleep better,” she told him. “I don’t want you getting any stupid ideas.”

She pulled down the covers and they climbed into the bed, curling next to each other for warmth. Mike lay quietly, fuming. After a while, he heard Eleven’s breathing slip into the shallow, even rhythm of sleep.

This was the time. He hadn’t anticipated that Eleven would tie his hands, but his arms were long and he was slender and flexible. With a little wriggling, he’d be able to slip his hands past his hips and under his feet to bring them in front of his body. Then he could wrap his fingers around Eleven’s throat, even use the cord at his wrists to strangle her. He’d drive his knee into her wound so the pain would make it hard to use her powers.

He’d need to be fast.If he gave her even a moment to focus her mind, she would kill him. Ideally he’d crush her larynx and windpipe right at the start, so even if she did manage to kill him, she would die too.

Mike had never killed anyone before. He closed his eyes, trying to build up the will for it.

_Eleven was evil. She was a monster. She’d ruined her own world and she wanted to ruin his too._

_El was dead because of her._

He rolled onto his side and began to shift his hands down his body.

Eleven whimpered in her sleep. Mike froze, watching her. The girl’s face contorted, twisting in something like fear or remembered pain.

“No,” she breathed.

She whimpered again, her arms twitching as if trying to hold back something in her dreams.

“Please,” she whispered.

She looked so much like El.

Mike rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Eleven went quiet after a while, her dream fading away.

He closed his eyes. It had been a long day. In moments he was asleep.


	4. Rules of Engagement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone. Sorry for another delay in my usual update speed, but work continues to be a beast. However, I managed to squeeze in some time here and there to produce the next chapter of As Black. I mentioned in a previous AN that Chapter 3 would be the low point in Mike and Eleven’s relationship, but that has actually crept into Chapter 4 instead. However, there are developments in this chapter that will start to change the way the two of them feel about each other, so… progress.
> 
> I am so grateful, always and forever, to homicidalbrunette for creating this world and giving me her thoughts and input on these chapters. It’s a privilege to work with such a talented and creative author.

Eleven stirred and Mike blinked awake.The girl was cuddled against him, her head on his chest and her short hair tickling his nose.His arms and shoulders ached.His wrists chafed from the leather cord that bound them.

It had been a difficult night.The pain of his bonds kept waking him, and then his anguished brain wouldn’t let him sleep.His mind kept turning the problem over and over.He couldn’t run from Eleven and he couldn’t bring himself to hurt her and he didn’t know what to do.

Mike had stared at the ceiling so long, he knew every crack.

Eleven lifted her head from his chest, her eyes bleary and fogged with sleep.She searched his face and he watched the emotions play across her features.There was wariness at first and then confusion.

“Twelve?” she wondered.Then she came fully awake, recognizing him.A sneer dropped across her face.“Did you sleep well, Mike?Nice and comfy with your wrists tied?”

He ground his teeth and bit back the insults that flashed through his mind.“Like a baby.”

“I’m so glad to hear it.”She sat up, scrubbing at her shaggy mop of hair.“Turn on your side.”

He did and she untied his wrists.His muscles screamed as he stretched his arms and got the blood flowing again.

They took turns in the bathroom.Eleven went first, of course.She ran water in the sink while Mike waited outside.When she finished and opened the door, her eyes met his, daring him to make a comment.He didn’t.

“I want a bath,” she said after Mike was finished.“A real bath.A hot bath.”

She sat on the couch as he filled pots and pans with water and raised them to boiling over a fire.He mixed them in the bathtub with cold water from the faucet.He laid out soap, shampoo, towels and a robe and then helped Eleven to the bathroom.He lowered her onto the edge of the tub while she gripped him tightly for balance.

“Help me,” she said, gesturing at her clothes.He tried to keep his mind blank as he pulled the loose grey sweats over her flaring hips and down her long, slender legs.Next he pulled the socks from her dainty princess feet.Then he took off her sweatshirt, a big, baggy thing that hid her pert little breasts in their lacy black bra.He was careful this time not to touch her skin as he pulled her clothes away.

A thin, faded scar caught his eye.It started near her belly button and ran down toward her panty line.

El didn’t have a scar like that.

He stepped back from the tub and looked away.

Eleven watched him for a moment.“Will you help me with my bra, Mike?” she said.“It’s awkward to reach.”She glanced down at the bandage on her thigh and then back up at him.Her eyes were so big and brown and soft.

“Um,” he said.His gaze flashed over her sleek, slender body, her pale skin, everything about her that screamed she was El, his beautiful El who was lost forever.His heart pounded so hard he thought his ribs would shatter.

As he hesitated, something flashed across her face.Scorn.Contempt.Disgust.

“You little worm,” she sneered.“Did you really think I was serious?That I’d want a weakling like you to touch me?”Her laughter was sharp and cutting.

Mike’s eyes narrowed.His lips quirked in a little smile.“Did you really think I’d want to touch a skank like you?You know what they say – you lie down with dogs, you wake up with fleas.”

He dropped to his knees as she bent his fingers back with her mind.The pain was excruciating.

“You’re weak, Mike,” she hissed.“You’re pathetic.Tell me, do you have to beg your little El for affection?‘Oh, please, please, El, let me see you naked.Let me touch you.I’ll give you gifts and do whatever you say.’”She snorted.“Women like a real man, Mike.They like a man who knows what he wants and takes it.If Twelve saw me in my bra, I wouldn’t have to ask him to take it off, he’d just do it.”

“Is that what real men do?Take what they want whether you like it or not?” Mike spit his words through gritted teeth.“I guess that’s why you’re always abusing people.Revenge, right?Get some payback for all the men who took something—"

Even before he finished speaking, he knew he was in trouble.

“Shut up!” she screamed.

Mike was airborne, hurtling out of the bathroom and into the hallway.He slammed into the wall so hard his teeth rattled.For a moment he was pinned, then she released him and he collapsed on the floor.

“I’ll break you next time, Mike,” she snarled.“I will break you if you ever say that to me again.”The bathroom door slammed.

Mike lay on the floor, swallowing the groans that tried to escape his throat.He’d touched a nerve and it gave him bitter satisfaction.But in the part of him that was gentle and kind, the part that was the core of Mike Wheeler, there was a single thought.

_Eleven, what did they do to you?_

* * *

After a while the bathroom door opened.Eleven was still in the bath, her back to Mike and her knees drawn up to her chest.She was curled in on herself.

“Help me stand up,” she said quietly.“My leg hurts too much.”

He walked slowly to the tub, fearful that this was another one of her sneering tricks.He was acutely conscious that she was naked.Her ivory skin was wet and gleaming, and her hair hung in damp ringlets around her face.Eleven stared into the water, keeping her head turned away.

“Don’t look at me,” she said.She curled in tighter, trying to hide her nudity.

Mike took a towel from the rack and covered her with it.The ends of the towel soaked in the water.He wrapped her in his arms and murmured, “On three.”

She nodded and he counted to three and he lifted her.Eleven staggered, her wet form pressing against him for balance, her little hands gripping him tightly, and then she was standing.She pulled the towel closer about her.For a moment they both stood in awkward silence, then he draped the bathrobe over her shoulders.He gave her his arm and helped her step from the bath.

Eleven didn’t look at him.

“You can go now,” she said.

Mike shut the bathroom door behind him.He leaned his forehead against the wall and closed his eyes.He was utterly lost.

* * *

After her bath, Eleven sat on the bed as Mike laid out bowls of water, bandages and rubbing alcohol.He kept his mind and his eyes on the medical supplies.He didn’t want to think about Eleven’s tight black t-shirt, her pink cotton panties, or the silky skin of her thighs.

He peeled away the bandage and inspected her wound.It looked the same as yesterday, and he told her that was good.Infection was the real risk and so far there were no signs.He gently cleaned the wound and then opened the bottle of rubbing alcohol.

“Tell me about Thirteen,” he said.

“What?”

“It will distract you.You’re Eleven, there’s a Twelve and a Fourteen… so tell me about Thirteen.”He wasn’t sure if he was trying to distract her or himself.The warmth of her skin, her soft breath, the clean smell of her – it was so like El he wanted to cry.

She knotted her fists in the bed sheet in anticipation of the pain.“Thirteen’s our leader.He’s smart and he’s powerful.So powerful.He can possess people, go inside their heads and use their bodies.”

Mike poured alcohol over her wound and she hissed.She kept talking.“He scares me.My powers are strong but they’re nothing compared to Thirteen.He can do anything he wants to anyone.He likes that.He takes advantage of it.But he mostly leaves me alone.”

Mike wiped the alcohol from the wound.“Why’s that?”

“I’m useful.My powers are an advantage to him.”Her voice turned thoughtful.“It’s funny, you wouldn’t think Thirteen is powerful to look at him.He’s small, just about my height.He has a soft voice and these big innocent hazel eyes.”

Mike dabbed at the wound with a towel and then paused, letting Eleven’s words play through his mind.“Is there a Fifteen?” he asked.

“Yes.She’s—”

“Red haired?”

Eleven frowned.“How did you know?”

Mike carefully placed clean bandages on her thigh.“Is one of your Talents a curly-haired boy, kind of stocky, missing some teeth?”

“Yes.That’s Sixteen.”

Mike wrapped gauze around the bandages.“It’s us,” he breathed.“My friends and I.The people you’re describing – in my world, they’re all my friends.We’ve known each other for years.”

She seemed surprised.“Were any of them in the Lab?Other than _Princess El_ I mean.”She forced a sneer into the last words, but Mike had the feeling her heart wasn’t in it.She was as intrigued as he was.

“No,” he said.“Other than El, we were all… normal.I met Lucas, the boy you call Fourteen, in kindergarten.Will and Dustin moved to Hawkins after that.They’re Thirteen and Sixteen in your world.Then there was… El.And Max, the red haired girl you call Fifteen.”He went quiet, thinking through the implications.

Eleven thought as well.Then a puzzled look crossed her face.“Kindergarten?” she asked.

“Oh.It’s a school, where little kids go to learn things.You know, when they’re like five, six years old.It literally means ‘Garden of Children’ in German.I guess it’s kind of a cross between a school and a daycare.”

Eleven nodded.Then she said, “German?”

“Um… it’s a language.They speak it in Germany.”

She nodded again but clearly had no idea what he was talking about.

_Oh god,_ he thought, _she’s just like El._

“If we find the right map, I can show you,” he told her.His heart ached, remembering all the times he’d explained things to his sweet, naive El, things that everyone knew except her.

“You and all of your friends, they found each other,” Eleven murmured.“And they’re the same as the Talents I met in the Lab?”

“I think that’s right,” Mike said.He struggled to process what it all meant.“It’s like we’re supposed to find each other.In both worlds… we’re supposed to be together.”

He and Eleven stared at each other.Mike suddenly realized he was holding her thigh, his fingers gently curled around her soft flesh, her skin warm against his palm.He’d been holding her for a while, his hands just inches from the thin pink cloth of her panties.He pulled his hands away, his face burning.Eleven looked away.

“We should have breakfast,” she said.Then she straightened, blinking out of her thoughts.The familiar sneer crossed her features.“And you’d better wash.I’m not going to put up with your stench all the way to Los Alamos.”

* * *

They set out at mid-morning.Mike carried most of the food and supplies in his backpack.Eleven’s pack was light, with nothing but the road atlas, a change of clothes and incidentals like soap and shampoo.She’d loaded up on hair product and make-up.Before they left, she’d slicked her hair back with gel and darkened her eyes with liner, and Mike swore he heard her sigh with relief when she was done.

They left the house behind and followed dirt roads, passing a few lonely homesteads on the way.Every one was empty and abandoned like the Ortega’s.After a while they reached the cracked black-top pavement of a road that the atlas called NM-76.

Mike’s pack was heavy and Eleven’s injury slowed her pace.They walked in silence, Mike occasionally lending her his arm to keep her steady or help her cross a rough patch of pavement.The road wound down out of the hills and into the valley of central Chimayo.The Santa Cruz river passed through the middle of the town, a wellspring that created this speck of green in the heart of the high New Mexico desert.There had never been many people in Chimayo and now every building was silent and empty.

“They grew chiles here,” Eleven murmured.

“Chiles?” Mike asked.

“That’s what the atlas said.The town was famous for it.”She shrugged.“I don’t know what a chile is.”

“Um… it’s a vegetable,” Mike said.“It can be green or red.It’s very hot.”

“Hot?”

“Uh – spicy, you know?It burns your tongue when you eat it.”

El frowned.“Why would you eat it then?”

“Well, it doesn’t really burn, I guess.It stings a little.But it gives things a nice flavor.Some people like it, some maybe not.”

She nodded, clearly not understanding but curious.

After a while they passed a sign by the road that said _Santuario de Chimayo._ Eleven stopped in front of it, reading, her lips moving as she sounded out the words.

“What does it mean, Santuario?”

“It’s Spanish,” Mike told her.“Uh – that’s another language, like German.The word means ‘Sanctuary.’I don’t know for sure, but I think it’s probably a church.”

“Church?”

“Where… where people worship God.”

He couldn’t read El’s expression.“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Papa mentioned God,” she said, “but only at the end.The Normals talk about him a lot.They say that he’s good and powerful and he controls everything that happens.They say that he’ll save them, but he never does.I’ve never seen him save anyone.”

Mike didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything.

* * *

Walking through Chimayo was the eeriest thing Mike had ever done.The sense of desolation shook him to his core.There was something about the doors of the houses that made them seem like mouths.The windows were empty eyes that peered into him.Weeds and grass poked through the pavement, sometimes rising as high as his waist.He knew the word _abandoned_ , he’d said it many times, but for the first time he _felt_ the word’s meaning.

Chimayo was abandoned.

It felt like he was walking through a movie set, something out of _Logan’s Run_ or _Stalker_ or _Night of the Comet._ A frisson of horror coursed through him every time he reminded himself that this was real.This was happening.He was walking through the end of the world.

The sun shone through the permanent haze that marred the sky.The day was cold but pretty.There was the rustling of leaves and birdsong.Now and then Mike saw little motes floating in the air, something like dandelion seeds but darker.

He looked down a side street and caught his breath when he saw a deer standing on the sidewalk.It was a young doe, her eyes huge and cautious.She watched him for a moment, then bent her head to the ground, rooting for food.Mike moved on, letting her be.

After a couple of hours they left the town behind.Mike was surprised how long it took.Chimayo wasn’t a big place, but he was so used to driving or biking that he’d lost his sense of how far a mile really was.It was even tougher with a heavy pack on your back.As they got to the edge of town, NM-76 wound back up into the hills and that added to his misery.It was a blessing that Eleven’s wound kept her pace slow; he couldn’t imagine how bad this would be if he had to scramble to keep up with her.

As they made their way into the red hills, the houses were fewer and then they disappeared altogether.There was only the road and the sky and Mike and Eleven.

After a while she took his leash in her hand.She tugged on it now and then, out of boredom or malice or maybe both.“Come on, Mike,” she said each time she tugged it.“Keep up.Don’t fall behind.”

He seethed at the indignity, his rage growing with every tug.For a while he bit his tongue, trying to stay calm, trying not to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.She looked back, frustrated by his veneer of calm.She started tugging harder.The anger boiled inside him.

Finally she gave a hard tug as Mike stepped on a patch of loose, broken asphalt.His heel skidded and he pitched forward, his balance off from the heavy pack.He fell to the pavement, pain shooting through his knees.The gravel stripped skin from his palms.

“Goddammit!” he shouted.“Would you stop that, you fucking bitch!”

Then he cried out as she bent back the ring finger of his left hand.

“Mike, what did I tell you?” she chided.

He ground his teeth against the pain.

“Now you need to apologize,” she said.

“No!” he shouted, slapping his other hand against the pavement.“I’m not going to apologize and I’m not going to wear your fucking leash!I’m not a dog!I’m a human being!”

His finger bent further and he couldn’t stop a yelp of pain.

“Mike,” she said, a grim smile on her face.“You’re making me angry.”

“I don’t care,” he growled.“I don’t care.You fucking bitch.”Despite the pain, he staggered to his feet.“I’m not a toy.I’m a person.You’re not going to treat me like this anymore.”

The pain intensified.“I’ll break it, Mike,” she warned.“Don’t think I won’t.”

He stared at her and everything inside him twisted.It was _her_ , it was El, but it wasn’t El.El was sweet and gentle and even though her life had been hard, she’d come through it.When El left the Lab, she came into the world ready to love and be loved, ready to make things better.

He couldn’t bear the idea that if El hadn’t escaped the Lab, she would have become this… thing.This creature filled with hate and rage and pain that wanted to burn the world to the ground.

El was better than that.He was certain of it.Even if things were different, she would never have become _this_.

The pain was almost blinding, but Mike stepped toward Eleven until his face was inches from hers.“I don’t care if you break it,” he hissed.“Here – let me help you.”

Eleven’s eyes widened in shock as Mike grabbed his hand and gave a fierce tug and broke his own finger.

He cried out in pain, but then he laughed and waved his damaged hand in her face.“There you go!Do you want to do the next one?Come on, you do the next one!”

Eleven took an involuntary step back, and the look on her face was shock and amazement and… something else.

_Fear_.

He was scaring her.

Mike didn’t stop.He grabbed his hand again.“What’s the problem, Eleven, don’t you want to get in on the fun?Let’s see if we can go ten for ten!”He broke his pinky and let out a strangled sob.

“Stop it,” she gasped.“Stop it!”

“Stop?Why would I stop?We’re just getting started!”He waved his hand in her face again.“Isn’t this what you wanted?”He grabbed the middle finger of his left hand and started to push it back.“You are nothing like her.She’s so much better than you.”

Everything went black.

* * *

Mike’s eyes fluttered open and he groaned.There was a low-grade ache in his head and a much higher-grade pain in his left hand.

He was lying on the road.Eleven sat a few yards away.She looked at him and then down at her hands and then at the horizon.

He sat up, wincing at the pain that floated all around his head.He was used to headaches that throbbed behind his eyes or over his eyes, but this was something different.

“What happened?” he muttered.

“I knocked you out,” Eleven said.“I squeezed some of the blood vessels that lead to your brain.You might feel groggy for a while, but it will pass.Your headache should be gone soon.”

She looked at him again and then back out at the horizon.

“It’s all I could think to do,” she said quietly.“You were hurting yourself.”

Mike played the incident over in his mind.He’d been so angry, but it was more than that.Eleven looked like El but she was so cruel and hateful, and that had broken something inside him.He still couldn’t bring himself to hurt her.He turned his anguish on himself instead.

He wasn’t sure how far he would have taken it.He thought he might have kept going until there were no more fingers left to break.

Eleven tossed something on the road beside him.It was a yard-long leather cord.His leash.

“You don’t have to wear it,” she said.“But put it in the pack.I still need to tie your wrists at night.”

Mike picked up the cord with his right hand, then winced, shaking his left hand gently.The last two fingers were swollen and throbbed with pain.

“Can you do anything about those?” she asked.

“Um… if I can find something to make a splint,” he said.“But I’ll need to set them first.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re… out of place.I need to put them back in place.”

“Oh.”

They searched the roadside until they found a few sticks that could make a splint.Mike took a deep breath and pushed his fingers back into place, groaning at the pain.

Then they sat down on the road, facing one another.

“Okay,” Mike said, “put these sticks here and here.”He began winding gauze around them, immobilizing his fingers.Eleven held the sticks carefully, her eyes flicking from Mike’s hand to his eyes and back.He was conscious of her soft little puffs of breath.Her hands were delicate and tiny, just like El’s.

“Twelve wouldn’t have done that,” Eleven said at last.There was a tone in her voice that Mike didn’t recognize.It was almost gentle, but that couldn’t be right because there was no gentleness in her.

“No?”He tried to stay focused and think of nothing but wrapping his fingers.

“No,” she said.“I’ve never known anyone who would do that.”

Mike shrugged.

Their eyes met.Hers were so big – deep pools of liquid brown that he felt in his soul and in that moment it seemed they were _hers_ , his El’s, and she was in front of him.But she wasn’t.

He missed her so much.

Eleven looked away and Mike looked away and her delicate little fingers held his broken hand.

* * *

The sun was low on the horizon when they saw the house.The place was low and rambling, like all the houses they’d seen, but there was smoke from the fireplace and a windmill in the yard and Mike could have sworn there was a glimmer of light – _electric light_ – in one of the windows.

Aside from the house there was nothing but hills and brush and scrub in every direction.

A surge of relief washed over Mike.He’d known, conceptually, that there were other people in this world.Eleven had said as much.Seeing proof of it was another thing entirely.Now he knew it wasn’t just the two of them.There was someone else.

Then little prickles of fear filled Mike’s stomach.There might be other people, but that didn’t mean they were friendly.

They approached the house cautiously.A curtain pulled aside at the window as they drew near.Then the door opened and a man came out.He was older, lean and rangy, with a salt and pepper beard.He had a flannel shirt and faded jeans and scuffed boots.He watched them warily as they came into the yard.

There was a sawed-off shotgun in his hand, held low next to his hip.

“What are you kids doing out here?” he called.“You come from Chimayo?No one’s come through here from Chimayo in a while.”

“That’s right—” Mike started, but Eleven cut him off.

“Do you have electricity?” she said.“And food?”

“Maybe,” the man said.His eyes flicked to Mike’s collar and the splint on Mike’s hand.The man cocked the twin hammers of the shotgun.“Aren’t you a friendly one?Not even a how-do-you-do.”

Eleven walked toward him.“We need your food,” she said, her voice flat, “and your house.”

The man raised his gun.“Now you stop there, missy, that’s far enough.”

With a jerk of her head, Eleven broke his arm.

The man cried out in pain, but he had enough presence of mind to fumble the shotgun into his other hand.He raised it again, training it on Eleven, and then he froze, pinned by the power of her mind.

For a moment none of them moved.It was a tableau of disaster waiting to unfold.Mike held his breath.

“Were you going to shoot that at me?” Eleven asked.There was a tone of wicked anticipation in her voice that made Mike’s heart sink.

“Eleven,” Mike murmured.

“You were,” she breathed.“You were going to shoot that at me.”

The man’s eyes, the only thing about him that wasn’t frozen, were wild with panic.

“Do you know what I do to people who try to hurt me?” Eleven asked.

“Eleven,” Mike said.

An anguished whimper escaped from the man as his body started to twist under the force of Eleven’s mind.The shotgun clattered from his hand.

“Eleven!” Mike screamed.“Stop!”

She turned, startled by his outburst.“Why would I stop?He wanted to kill me.”

“He was scared.He just wanted to protect himself.Please stop.”

Eleven turned her gaze back to the man and he gurgled in pain.

“Stop!” Mike shouted.“I’ll – I’ll do anything you say!”

She was even more startled.“What?”

“I’ll do anything you say,” he repeated.“I won’t fight you anymore.I’ll obey.Just don’t hurt him.Let him live.Let him go.”

She considered his words.“You’ll… obey me?”

Mike swallowed hard.“Yes.I’ll follow your orders.I’ll be respectful.I’ll do anything you say, no complaints.Just please let him go.”

Eleven’s eyes searched his and then she said, “Promise?”

Mike nodded.“I promise.”

Eleven turned back to the man.With a single glance, the shotgun flashed through the air and slapped into her hand.Then she released the man and he collapsed on the ground, moaning.

“Get up!” she ordered.He lay there, groaning.“I said get up!”

The man staggered to his feet, terrified.

“Is there anyone else here?” she asked.

He shook his head anxiously.“No.It’s just me, I swear!There’s no one else!”

“If you’re lying…”

“I’m not lying!” the man said.“Please, you have to believe me, there’s no one else.”

“Then go,” Eleven said.“Run.If I see you again, I’ll kill you.Even if it’s just a glimpse from far away, if I see you again, I’ll kill you.So go.Go!”

The man scrambled away.He ran through the yard and off into the hills.He looked back at them occasionally, eyes wide with fear.

His form grew smaller and smaller until finally he disappeared.

Mike sighed with relief.

Eleven watched the horizon for a while, making sure the man didn’t come back.Then she turned to Mike.“I’m going to hold you to that,” she said.“From now on, you obey me.No complaints and no arguments.If you go back on your word...”

Mike sighed.“That was the deal.I promised.”

That seemed to satisfy her.Then she frowned, puzzled.“I don’t understand you, Mike.When I hurt you, you didn’t care.You defied me.But when it was someone else…”

“I don’t like it when anyone gets hurt.When it’s me…” he shrugged, “so be it. I’ll deal with it.When it’s someone else… I try to stop it when I can.”

Eleven’s face was blank, impassive.“It’s the way of the world, Mike.The strong hurt the weak unless the weak obey.That’s the way it is and that’s the way it will always be.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way.I mean it is that way, lots of times, I don’t deny it.But it doesn’t have to be.The strong can protect the weak.They can help them.”

She looked genuinely baffled.“Why?What’s the point of that?”

Mike paused, searching for the right words.“Because the world is better when people help each other.It makes everyone’s life better.”

That he had to tell her this broke his heart.That she didn’t know this made him want to scream.

“Is that how it is in your world, Mike?”Eleven gestured all about them.“It’s not like that here.Do you think the demogorgons are going to help you?When people are scrambling for food and a fire to keep them warm, they don’t help each other.The strong take from the weak and the weak only survive if they obey.”

Mike searched her face.She looked just like El, but she said things El would never say, thought things El would never think.

_Eleven, what did they do to you?_

“That’s sad,” he told her.“I’m sorry your world is that way.”

“I’ll bet your own world is more like mine than you think.It’s the way of things.”Her trademark sneer flashed across her face.“No one has ever helped me, Mike.Not Twelve, not Thirteen, not any of the others.We cooperate with each other because it’s useful.We don’t ‘help.’Remember that, Mike. _No one has ever helped me_.”

Eleven turned toward the house, this place with electricity and food that she’d taken from someone weaker than her.

“I helped you,” Mike said.

She froze.

His voice was soft.“When you were bleeding to death in that field, I helped you.”

For a second she stood motionless.Then she walked to the house and went inside.Mike looked around at the house and the hills and the darkening sky.Eleven’s world was a lonely place.It seemed lonelier now than it had before.


	5. The Things That Were Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Welcome back to Chapter 5 of As Black As My Love’s Heart. I’m sorry it’s been so long since the last update, but I needed to pause this story so I could focus on finishing my other tale, When He Was Special. That one is finally done, and from here on I should be alternating between chapters of As Black and the third story in the Special series.
> 
> As an apology for the long delay, this is a long chapter, over 7000 words! It’s almost like two chapters in one.
> 
> As always, my deepest thanks go out to the wonderful homicidalbrunette, who inspired this tale of Mike and evil!El with her brilliant Mirror Darkly stories. I’ve heard from quite a few people who are fans of her work, and for those who haven’t read it, what are you waiting for? It’s here on AO3.
> 
> And now, Chapter 5…

Eleven poked through the survivor’s house. The place was small but clean and well kept. The cupboards bulged with food – pasta and rice, dry fruit, shelf after shelf of canned goods. The pantry was filled with jugs of clean water. The refrigerator worked, and Eleven grinned as she looked at fresh vegetables, milk and cheese. It was a treasure trove. There was even meat and fish in the freezer.

A small generator hummed in the basement and she delighted in turning the lights off and on, off and on. She couldn’t help stroking the iridescent bulbs with her fingers, feeling the frosted glass grow warm.

It was a shame that Twelve and the rest of her companions weren’t here, she thought.They would have been so impressed with her for capturing this prize.The place was so rich she almost didn’t want to leave.

She would though, tomorrow.She had to get to Los Alamos. She had to find the Gate and make her way back to Mike’s world.

 _Mike_.

Eleven looked out the windows until she found him, still in the front yard. He was just standing there, hands in his pockets, staring at the horizon. She’d wondered if he would try to run, even though she’d proved how futile it was.It wouldn’t have surprised her; Mike seemed to embrace futility and hopeless gestures. He was honestly the strangest Normal she'd ever met.

Not that she’d ever interacted much with Normals. They were hardly better than animals, though like animals they had their uses. They could be prey, like the survivor she'd taken this house from. They could be servants, a source of labor and resources. Eleven seldom bothered with them, other than to lash out at the ones that got in her way. She left managing them to Thirteen and Fourteen, who seemed to enjoy it.

Out in the yard, Mike heaved a sigh and turned back toward the house. Eleven was struck again by how much he looked like Twelve.

There was the same shaggy black hair, half curly and half wavy. There was the same lean lankiness, all arms and legs, the height waiting for the width to catch up. Mike and Twelve both had startling brown eyes, though Twelve's were hard and Mike's were gentle. They both had a face shaped by razor cheekbones and a pointed chin and just a little too much nose.

Despite the boys’ similarities, Eleven thought Twelve was _sharper_ somehow.He exuded an air of danger. Mike was... soft. Nothing about him was dangerous. Eleven struggled to put words to it - she was never very good with words - but she would say that Twelve was _handsome_ and Mike was _pretty_.

She watched him walk in the front door and then stop, startled.

"Crossbow trap," Eleven told him. "That old man wasn't as stupid as he looked."

The weapon was mounted on the wall facing the door.It was loaded and there was a tripwire string tied to the trigger. Mike approached it cautiously, touching the steel point of the quarrel with his finger.

"He disarmed it when he came out on the porch," Eleven said. "There's another one guarding the kitchen door. It's armed so don't do anything stupid in there.”

Mike nodded, tracing the tripwire from the trigger to the doorknob.

“There are steel shutters on the windows and the rest of the doors are boarded up,” Eleven said.“The old bastard turned this place into a fortress."

Mike ran his finger along the sleek plastic curve of the bow. When he spoke, his voice was bitter. "I guess the old man was stupid to come out from behind his defenses. He should have known we were a threat. He should have known we weren't any good."

Eleven scowled at the rebuke. It was so typical of Mike and so utterly foolish. The only way you survived in this world - in any world – was by being a threat.

His attitude grated on her.Mike was a weakling.He talked about good and bad, about the strong protecting the weak, about people helping each other, but those were the words of a weakling. They were the words the weak used to trick the strong into obeying them.

"He wasn’t going to stop me with a crossbow trap and some shutters," she snapped.

Mike shrugged, his face expressionless, but the bitterness was still in his voice. "Then I guess he got what he deserved, didn't he?Serves him right."

She clenched her fists.He was so infuriating with his little passive-aggressive jabs. Even though he was a weakling, he had this righteous attitude like he was _better_ than her. He was so goddamn _smug_.

She’d captured this house, won them food and supplies so they could live for one more day, and Mike acted like that made her bad.

He acted like he and his precious El wouldn’t have done it. They were _good_ people and oh so noble, because they never had to suffer.They never had to fight just to make it through the day. Mike and El had the luxury of looking down from their nice houses, their soft beds, their refrigerators full of food, and then sneering at her for surviving in a world made of ruins.

 _Princess El._ The thought of her turned Eleven’s stomach. El lived her comfortable little life where no one ever hurt her, and she could be so sweet and so caring and it just made Eleven want to vomit. The way Mike talked about her, it was like the girl peed honey and farted rainbows.

 _Bitch_.

Eleven watched Mike shuffle around the living room, paging through books, looking at old letters. To be fair, he didn't seem smug right now. He seemed distressed. He seemed genuinely bothered that they'd taken the survivor's house. It was astonishing. Mike needed to learn - fast - that in this world you were either a sheep or a wolf and there was no other choice.

He fumbled with one of the books, the makeshift splint on his fingers making him clumsy.

Eleven looked at the splint, frowning. That was the piece of Mike that she couldn’t reconcile.The thing he’d done on the road, breaking his own fingers in defiance of her... she'd never seen anything like it. Twelve wouldn’t have done it. It wasn't the act of someone who was weak. She didn't know what it was.

It troubled her. All she wanted to do was put Mike in a box, label him _Sheep_ or _Victim_ or _Weakling_ , and be comfortable she knew where he fit in her life.That was turning out harder than she’d expected.

* * *

They searched the rest of the house. It had a second floor, unusual in this land of rambling single-story homes. There was an attic, but the hatch leading to it had been boarded over.

As Mike rummaged through the hall closets, Eleven stepped into a room with a small bed, a desk and an artist’s easel. The comforter and the bedsheets were frilled and lacy and pink. Paints and brushes waited on the desk, neatly arranged and ready to use.

She went to the window and pulled back the drapes, looking out on a backyard dotted with bushes and flowers. The grass was neatly trimmed.

At the far side of the yard was a rectangle of dirt, marked at one end with sticks in the shape of a cross.She’d seen those crosses before; they were a tribute by the Normals to their useless God. The grave dirt looked freshly turned, a few weeks old at best.

A little wooden plaque had been nailed to the crossed sticks. The word _Jessica_ was scrawled on it in white paint.

Eleven let the drapes fall back into place.

She looked around the room again. There were paintings everywhere, some on the walls, some stacked on the floor. They were beautiful: desert landscapes, flowering bushes, little villages of adobe homes. One showed a horse splashing through a stream and another an eagle in flight.

She picked one of the paintings off the floor. It was a picture of the survivor.There was a dog with him, and a young girl with blonde hair. Eleven put the painting back.

A memory came to her then: a simple piece of notebook paper with a crude picture, a child’s scrawl in crayon. It wasn’t anything like these paintings, but it had been made with such love and such hope. The picture had a little stick figure labeled _11_ and a bigger one labeled _Papa_.

She’d kept the picture over her bed for years. After she killed Papa, she left it there.

There was a stuffed bear on the bed.It was worn and threadbare and loved, like the lion she used to hold at night. Eleven picked up the animal and ran her fingers over its button eyes and patched ear.

She’d lost her lion long ago, somewhere on the road with her companions after the fall of the Lab. She didn’t know how. All she knew was that one night she couldn’t find it. She dug through her pack endlessly, her eyes filled with tears. Then she searched Twelve’s pack and when she still couldn’t find the lion, she became convinced Fifteen had taken it. She screamed at the red-haired girl until Thirteen made her stop.

Thirteen told everyone to empty their packs but no one had it. She never saw it again.

Eleven put the bear back on the bed.It was just a toy.It was stupid to get attached to toys, or pictures, or anything really. A shitload of good a stuffed bear and some paintings had done the people who lived in this house. The girl was dead and the dog was gone and the father had run away.

When Eleven left the room, she closed the door behind her.

* * *

The dinner that night was the best she’d eaten in years. Mike cooked a salmon in the oven with vegetables and he made mashed potatoes on the stove. He flavored the potatoes with chopped green chiles and when Eleven took a bite, she realized why you would eat something that burned your tongue. The spiciness - that’s what Mike called it - grabbed your attention and made the flavor burst in your mouth.

There was clean water to wash the heat away and even sodas. Eleven actually preferred water, but soda was such a rarity that she finished two cans of the sweet brown liquid before the meal was over.

Mike was quiet during dinner. He ate slowly, the fork awkward in his hand because of his broken fingers, and he stared at the wall as he chewed. It wasn’t like him. In the brief time Eleven had known Mike, he’d always been a talker, unable to keep his thoughts to himself no matter how much he might resent her. Tonight he was closed off, brooding in silence.

Eleven thought she would welcome a respite from his incessant chatter, but it was actually rather unsettling. She was surprised to find herself talking to him, trying to draw him out from behind his wall. She told him the food was good in the most pleasant tone she could muster, but that drew little more than a grunt. Then she ventured a question about the chiles and how he’d thought to add them to the potatoes. He shrugged.

She felt a flash of anger. She didn’t know if she was more irritated at Mike for his silence or herself for caring. She’d never in her life tried to make conversation with a Normal, or even a Talent for that matter. Most of the time, talking was a waste of breath.

She took another bite of salmon and chewed angrily. She thought for a moment about bending Mike’s fingers back with her powers. That would serve him right. She would bend his fingers back and tell him to stop brooding and stop being such a pissy little bitch.

Then her eyes flicked to his splint and she let the thought go. Mike was a weakling, but he could only be pushed so far.

She took a few more bites of the potatoes as the silence stretched. “I saw a grave in the backyard,” she said after a while.

She’d given up trying to get Mike to talk. The grave had just been hovering at the back of her mind.

He frowned. “A grave?”

“It looked fresh, maybe a few weeks. The marker said _Jessica_. I think she was his daughter.”

Mike poked at the potatoes with his fork. “I guess that explains it.I’ve been wondering why the old man came out to meet us. Why he left his lights on so anyone could see them.”

Eleven didn’t say anything.

“He seemed like he’d lost something,” Mike said. “Something important, you know? The kind of thing that when it’s gone, nothing else really matters.”

He turned back to his food and didn’t say anything more. They finished the meal in silence.

* * *

The master bathroom had a large tub and glorious hot running water. Eleven promised herself a long, luxurious bath in the morning, but tonight it was late, her leg ached from all the walking and she wanted to go to sleep.

Mike cleaned and bandaged her wound and helped her change into her night clothes. He was closed off, just like at dinner, and he seemed unmoved by her bare skin. His hands used to tremble when he touched her; she’d felt the tension in his frame, sensed the way his eyes flicked to her panties as he worked. Now he was mechanical. He was gentle - he was always gentle when he touched her - but his hands didn't linger and his expression didn't change.

He didn't ask her to talk, the way he had before. Instead he poured the alcohol on her wound and she hissed at the pain and he looked on without expression. She watched him suspiciously, wondering if he was enjoying her discomfort, but he didn't give any sign.

After he helped her into her clothes, he quickly changed his own. Eleven’s eyes flicked over his pale body. She watched his strong lean arms, the play of muscle on his narrow chest. On Twelve that long, slender form was like a knife, angular and dangerous. On Mike she was always reminded of a reed, something that bent with the slightest breeze. Then she remembered him on the road, laughing defiantly as he broke his fingers, and for a moment she saw a glimmer of steel under his soft white skin.

She looked away.

After they were changed, she tied Mike. He kept his promise to obey, putting his hands behind his back so she could wrap his wrists with cord. She tied them tightly, wanting to force a cry from him, to get anything from him but this walled off-silence. Mike winced but made no complaint.

"Good boy," she said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. "Remember, if you cause any trouble, I'll punish you."

"You'll do whatever you want anyway," he said.

They climbed into bed, Mike clumsy with his tied hands and broken fingers. Eleven flicked the lights off with her mind and they lay next to each other in darkness. It didn't take long before Mike's breathing found the shallow, steady rhythm of sleep.

Eleven stared at the ceiling.

She had food and water, a safe place to sleep, even a warm bath in the morning. She had an obedient servant to tend her wound until she healed. Los Alamos was two days away and there was a good chance she would find a Gate there.

El and Kali had almost killed her in Mike's world. But she'd survived.The look on their faces when she came back to kill them instead would be priceless.

Things were going well.

Mike shifted beside her, his shoulders twisted by his bonds. His body pressed against her, warm under the covers. He mumbled wordlessly, sadly, seeing something in his dreams.

Eleven looked out into the darkness of the room. She felt Mike’s solid weight at her side and listened to his breathing.

Eventually she slept.

* * *

Sometimes the dreams were bad and sometimes they were worse.

Some things were always the same. There was the Lab, and the table, and the restraints. There was cold tile, the glow of fluorescent light, the smell of antiseptic. There was always a stillness, like the air didn’t move, and the only sound was shuffling feet and the clink of instruments in metal trays.

And always there was Papa, and he told her she was a good girl and there was nothing to be afraid of.

Then it would start to hurt.

When the dreams were the worst, she knew why it hurt.

Eleven woke to dim light filtering into the room through the cracks in the shutters. For a moment there was panic, that she was still in the Lab, still on the table, and then it washed away as she remembered where she was, when she was, who she was. The panic faded, replaced as always by relief and anger and shame.

She saw the black-haired boy lying in the bed beside her, and for a confused moment she recognized Twelve. Then the memories came to her and she saw the cord that tied the boy’s hands. This wasn’t Twelve.

It was Mike. The victim. The weakling.

Eleven had been a victim once and weak. She would never be again.

The boy blinked awake.

“Good morning,” she sneered, wanting to feel herself again, wanting to feel powerful and not like the girl on the table. “Did you sleep like a baby again, Mike?Bonds not too tight?”

He shrugged, closing himself off. “Good morning.”

She scowled. “Get up. Help me to the tub. I want a bath.”

“I need to take a piss,” he said.

“I don’t care. Hold it. I’m having a bath.”

Mike looked at her, not saying a word. Eleven couldn’t stop her eyes from going to his bound hands and his broken fingers. The silence stretched.

“Fine,” she relented. “But I’m going first.”

After they’d done what they needed to, Mike drew the bath for her and helped her out of her clothes. He was careful but quick, keeping his eyes on the bathroom wall.In moments she was standing in front of him in her bra and panties. She couldn’t help but be conscious of how tall he was, towering over her by almost a head. His face was impassive but there was the slightest hint of red in his cheeks. His soft breath tickled her hair.

“Do you need me to help you sit?” he asked, still looking at the wall.

“Yes,” she said, and his long, slender fingers settled on her arm and her hip. He lowered her gently until she was perched on the edge of the tub.She reached back to unhook her bra and he left without a word, closing the door behind him.

Eleven bathed slowly, letting the hot water soothe her knotted muscles. When she was done, she sank to her chin in the water and then lower, letting it rise above her ears and block off all sound. She closed her eyes, drifting in the absence of her senses.

Her index finger settled on the scar that traced from her navel to her hip. The scar was thin, the barest hint of a ridge. The person who made it had been careful and precise.

Eleven stroked her finger over it, back and forth, and the hate churned inside her.

* * *

It was hard to leave the house, so perfect with its food and its light and its warmth, but they needed to be on their way. Eleven was ready for the road, her hair slicked back, her eyes lined in deep black just the way she liked them.She told Mike to pack more food, refill the canteens, and take anything else that seemed useful.

“We need to wait about twenty minutes,” he said, “the dryer is still going.”

“Dryer?” she frowned.

Mike showed her a room off the kitchen with two boxy white machines.He called one of them the washer and the other the dryer. The dryer rumbled and shook, though not in a way that seemed threatening.

“They clean clothes,” he explained, “so you don’t have to do it by hand. I thought we should take the opportunity.I mean, who knows when we’ll find another place with electricity?If we ever do.”

Eleven looked at him suspiciously but then shrugged. She’d come across old machines of the Normals before, but the devices seldom worked. Sixteen had a knack for them, and could get one running now and then, but never for long.It made sense that Mike would know how to use them.

He reloaded their packs when the clothes were done. “Should we take the shotgun?” he asked. “Or maybe one of the crossbows?”

“I don’t need them,” Eleven said. “And there’s no reason for you to have them.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What if we run into something dangerous?What if you need my help?”

She snorted. “I won’t. And I can’t see you being any use even if you had them.”

He started to object but she cut him off. “Stick to breaking your own fingers, Mike. You couldn’t hurt anything else.”

His lips tightened into a thin line and she smirked. It felt good to throw that back in his face.

It was mid-morning by the time they closed the front door and started for the road. Eleven was irritated. It was nice to have clean clothes but waiting for the dryer had wasted precious daylight. They were going slow enough as it was because of her leg. She barely bit back a snarl when Mike stopped at the end of the drive.

“We never checked the garage,” he said, pointing at a small, square building some distance from the house. It had a long, rectangular door. Eleven had seen garages before in her travels. In theory, the Normals used them to store automobiles, but in practice they were usually filled with junk.

"I think we've screwed around enough, Mike," she snapped. "We need to get going."

"It will only take a couple minutes.And we might find something useful."

Eleven rolled her eyes. She was tempted to say no just to spite him, but she had to admit he was right. The survivor's house was well stocked.There was a good chance the garage would have something of value.

They went back to the small building. The door was locked but Eleven's powers made short work of it. Mike pulled the door up and she looked inside. As expected, the garage was filled with junk, stacked high with boxes and old furniture and rusty tools. She turned to Mike, ready to deliver a cutting remark, but stopped when she saw the look on his face.

"A bicycle," he breathed.

Now she was confused, trying to figure out what could possibly be useful in all this debris. But Mike raced to a strange device - a metal frame with two thin rubber wheels and an odd lever mechanism linked to a chain.

"It's in good condition!" Mike said. "The survivor must have used it to get around. Look, it's got saddlebags up front and there's even a companion seat." He patted a little leather platform perched above the rear wheel.

"What is that thing?" Eleven asked, baffled by Mike's excitement.

"It's a bicycle! Didn't you ever--" he stopped abruptly, then sighed. "No, I guess you wouldn't know about them. El didn't either before she met me."

The mention of Princess Precious set her teeth on edge, but Eleven pushed it aside. "What does it do?"

"It's... you ride it. It helps you travel quickly. We can go a lot faster on this than we could walking and it will be a lot better for your leg. Luckily it has the companion seat..." Mike's excitement faded.

"What is it?" Eleven asked.

"I'm guessing that was for his daughter," Mike said softly. He ran his hand over the second seat.

Eleven shrugged. The girl was dead and that was the end of it. "Can you drive it?"

"Yes, I know how to ride. As long as you hang on to me you shouldn't throw me off balance. Let me see if I can find a pump and a patch kit, just in case."

Eleven didn't have any idea what Mike was talking about, but she waited as he searched the garage. It wasn't long before he came back with a little black tube with a cord attached to it and a small plastic case. From the satisfied look on his face, he'd found what he was looking for. He pushed them into the saddlebags along with the backpacks and the rest of their gear.

Mike rolled the bicycle outside the garage and then straddled its metal frame. "Let's go."

Eleven eyed the machine suspiciously. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Just sit on the companion seat. Your feet go here and here. Hold on to me - it will be easier for me and it will keep you from falling off."

She was feeling very, very leery about this. The device looked incredibly unstable and it didn't seem possible to balance on those two thin tires. She couldn't help wondering if Mike was trying to play a trick on her. It didn't seem likely, but he'd surprised her more than once in the brief time she'd known him.

He seemed to sense her discomfort. "Come on, it's totally safe. Trust me."

Bristling with wariness, Eleven approached the bicycle. She pulled her powers to the front of her mind, ready to lash out in an instant if Mike tried anything. She settled onto the companion seat and carefully laid her hands on his shoulders.

"Okay, now put your feet on the rests," he told her.

She did, picking her feet up off the ground and feeling terribly vulnerable. She reminded herself that she could snap his neck with a thought.

"Here we go," Mike said, and he put his feet on the pedals and started them off. The bicycle moved forward with a jerk.Eleven gasped, her fingers tightening in a death grip. The machine wobbled, steadied, and they picked up speed.

They pulled away from the garage and the bicycle bobbled on the gravel drive, even as they went faster. Eleven's grip felt too precarious. She latched her arms around Mike's waist and buried her face in his back. This was a trick, it had to be.Mike was going to kill her with this device or maybe kill them both. He would do that, he would sacrifice himself if he thought it was right...

"Open your eyes!" Mike shouted. "Look!"

Something in his tone broke through her panic. He didn't sound like he was leading them to their deaths. Eleven forced her head up, forced herself to look as the bicycle hurtled down the road.

She gasped in awe. They were _flying_.

* * *

The ride was... exhilarating. Eleven clung to Mike's slender waist and watched the world flash past her. She'd moved this fast only once before, inside a car in Mike's world, and that had been very different.The images she’d seen in the car windows felt unreal, like pictures on a screen.

 _This_ was real. There was wind in her face and the smell of the earth in her nose. She breathed in fresh air even as the ground blurred beneath the bicycle and the trees whipped past. Mike's long legs worked the pedals, driving the bike forward on the straights and the uphill climbs. He stopped pedaling on the downhill slopes, letting gravity lend a hand.Sometimes they raced to the bottom so fast, he would have to use the brakes.

Those were the best moments. A thrill would bubble up inside Eleven, and her heart would pound, and she’d want to scream or laugh or maybe both. She held it in, not wanting to seem weak or frivolous, and certainly not in front of Mike.

But it was glorious.

Sometimes she would close her eyes and lean back as they traveled the road, letting the wind rush over her. She felt like a bird then, soaring through the air. She felt... free. For those few moments, she didn't think about the Lab, or the Gate, or the hatred and rage that boiled endlessly in her soul. There was only the wind.

* * *

It was late afternoon when Mike stopped the bicycle. He had to because of the wall.

Eleven slid warily from the companion seat. It hardly seemed a coincidence that the road was blocked here, in a narrow ravine between high canyon walls. Red boulders were piled three times the height of a man and blocked all passage forward.

"Some kind of rockslide?" Mike wondered.

"Not here," Eleven said. Her eyes flashed from the wall to the high cliffs on either side. "It's too convenient. Too deliberate."

He looked around worriedly. "Can you sense anything? I mean... in the Void?"

She snorted. "You're pretty free with my powers, aren't you Mike? Don't forget who's in charge here."

The annoying thing was that Mike's suggestion was a good one. She waited a moment - to make clear she wasn't doing it because _he_ said so – and then she stepped into the Void.

There was the familiar drip of water and the thin slick pool of it under her feet. Eleven saw the rocks, the bicycle, Mike. She waited a moment, probing out with her senses.

Nothing.

"There's no one around," she said as she came back into the world. She wiped the blood from her nose.

Mike nodded. He turned back to the wall, studying it. "Can you fly us over?"

"What?"

"With your powers, I mean. Can you fly us over? Back in Hawkins at the quarry, El once—" Something in her face made him stop talking.

"Are you making fun of me, Mike?" she hissed.

"What? No! What are you talking about?" He looked genuinely confused.

"You know I can't use my powers on myself.”She fought back the urge to bend his fingers. The little worm. Why would he bring that up if not to rub her nose in it?

“You can’t?”To be fair, he sounded confused.Either the information was new to him or he was a very good liar.

“Of course I can’t,” she snapped.“Did _Princess El_ ever use her powers on herself?Has _she_ ever flown through the air?”

“Well—” Mike began and then a surprised look came over his face.“No.Now that you mention it, no.”He seemed startled that he was just realizing this.

“I guess you don’t pay as much attention to her as you say you do,” Eleven sneered.“Well, now you know, Mike.Our powers only work on other people, other things.I could fly you over that wall, but I can’t fly myself over.”

“Oh.”Mike’s brow furrowed as he tried to find another solution.“I guess… I guess you can’t climb it, either.”

Eleven waved at her wounded leg, her disgusted expression speaking volumes.

“Maybe if you got on the bike…” he murmured.“Could you float that over the wall while you hang on?”

“You want me to keep my concentration while I’m flying through the air?And if I get distracted for a second, I die?Are you serious?”She shook her head.“I guess you’re not just weak, Mike, you’re stupid too.What in the world did that little whore ever see in you?”

“Well I thought you were strong,” Mike snapped.“You’re supposed to be this stone killer, but you can’t even keep your mind focused enough to stay on a bike!Talk about stupid!”

Eleven stepped toward him, her little fists balled up, her face flushed with rage.She reached for her power, ready to break fingers and drop this mewling worm to his knees.

Before she could do anything, Mike put his hands up.

“I’m sorry,” he said.He sighed.“I’m sorry.I promised I wouldn’t do that.I apologize for yelling at you.”

She stopped, surprised by his sudden surrender.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

Eleven let her power drain away.She opened her fists and breathed deep, getting herself under control.

It was the weirdest thing, seeing Mike push down his anger and apologize.She hadn’t even punished him first.

She wondered why he’d done it.She knew he wasn’t afraid of her.He wasn’t afraid to suffer pain if it meant he could throw an insult in her face.

Suddenly it struck her.

_He’d promised._

It was another way he wasn’t like Twelve.Mike kept his promises.

To her surprise, Eleven heard herself say, “Fine.Don’t do it again.”

Then she stared at him, unsure what to do next. She’d never had an argument before that didn’t end with threats or violence, with one person enforcing their will through sheer power.She’d never had an argument that ended like this, with one person saying _I’m sorry_ and the other person accepting it.It was so strange.What were they supposed to do now?

Confused, she turned and looked at the wall.She heard footsteps and she was conscious of Mike standing behind her.

“Maybe we go back,” he said quietly.“Find another way.”

She shook her head.“In these mountains?I don’t think there is another way.We need to go through.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I’m strong Mike.Watch.”

* * *

It took her over twenty minutes to clear a break in the wall.The boulders were heavy, big solid blocks of red stone, and it was an effort to float them down, one by one.She saw Mike’s eyes widen as she worked, and she knew then that Princess El couldn’t have done it.Certainly not so fast, not without resting.What Eleven did in minutes might have taken El hours.

She smiled.She had been tempered and tested.Her powers had blossomed in the Lab, watered by torment and fertilized by pain.Now she was a rose, bold and beautiful and sharp with thorns.Next to her, El was a weed to be trampled underfoot.

“I—I’ve never seen anything like it,” Mike told her, his eyes filled with wonder.He looked around the highway, the black asphalt now littered with rocks.

Eleven felt a rush of smug satisfaction.Then she pushed it aside, irritated with herself.Why would she give a damn if Mike was impressed?

“I’m not quite done,” she said.“There’s a few more to go.”

She turned back to the wall and the demogorgons attacked.

Her only warning was Mike’s panicked shout.Even as she turned, two of the creatures were coming at her, breaking from hiding places in the boulders.They were fast, a rushing jumble of oddly jointed legs and sickly green skin and gaping, five-jointed jaws.

She cursed.She’d known this place was built for an ambush, but she’d been so focused on breaking down the wall – _so focused on impressing Mike_ – that she hadn’t checked the Void for twenty straight minutes.

She’d been stupid.

In Eleven’s world, stupid people died.

She shredded the first monster with her mind, splattering blood and guts and teeth across the highway.Then the second was on her, swinging its razor claws, and she barely got a shield up in time.Sparks showered as the creature raked her shimmering barrier of force.The blow was strong enough to send her stumbling backward.

She was weak, tired.She’d spent so much energy on the boulders, there was almost nothing left.

The demogorgon kept coming.It was huge and its arms were so long, lashing at her like whips.It took everything she had to keep the shield up, and she kept falling back as the monster rained down blow after blow.Panic welled up inside her – she’d never been this hard-pressed and her companions were a world away.

She looked around wildly.The bike lay on the pavement and Mike was gone, no doubt running for his life.

She gasped as the demogorgon landed a hammer-blow that almost knocked her off her feet.She tried to time the beast’s swings, looking for a chance to drop her shield and turn her power against the awful thing.

It wasn’t coming.The monster was so fast, so strong.It swung again, the hardest blow yet.Sparks exploded from her force shield and she fell backward, catching her heel on a rock.She went down with a gasp, feeling the shield flicker away.

The demogorgon loomed above her, claws raised for the killing strike.

“Get away from her, you piece of shit!”

Eleven blinked in shock as Mike slammed a rock into the thing’s head.The creature snarled, more surprised than hurt, and Mike hit it again.Then again.

The demogorgon turned and caught the lanky boy with a backhand swing.The rock flew from Mike’s hands and he sprawled on his back.The demogorgon stepped toward him, flower-petal jaws unfurling to show all of its teeth.Mike tried to scramble back on his heels and elbows, but from the look on his face he knew it was hopeless.The creature reached out a long, triple-jointed arm, caught him by the ankle, and pulled him across the pavement toward its gaping mouth.Mike grabbed futilely at the asphalt, eyes wide with fear.

Eleven ripped the monster apart.

She wearily rolled to a sitting position as Mike stared at the remains of the demogorgon.He looked away, almost retching, and staggered to his feet.He gave himself a quick once-over, then made his way over to her.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

He actually sounded concerned.

For a moment Eleven stared at him.The sun was setting behind him and its fading light cast an orange glow across his features.He was looking at her with big brown eyes, in this light so dark they were almost black.He had freckles, she noticed, just like Twelve’s.

She’d always liked Twelve’s freckles.

“I’m fine,” she said.

Mike put out his hand.Eleven took it and he helped her to her feet.She winced.She hadn’t felt the pain of her wound during the fight, but now that the adrenaline was gone it came rushing back.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

He hadn’t let go of her hand, she realized.

No.

She hadn’t let go of his hand.

“Why did you do that?” she asked.

“Do what?”

“Fight for me.”

He looked confused.“I wouldn’t call that a fight.That thing mopped the floor with me.”

“But you attacked it.When it knocked me down.You could have run away, but you attacked it instead.”

“I—I don’t know,” he said.“I saw you were in trouble and I thought—"

Suddenly he stiffened.He pulled his hand from hers and his face went cold.

“I thought that thing would kill me right after it killed you,” he said, his voice as cold as his expression.“If I tried to run, it would track me through the Void.My only chance was for you to kill it first.I was just being sensible.”

He turned and walked off, not waiting for her answer.Eleven watched him go, the weakling who had saved her life a second time.

* * *

_The room was small, with a nothing but a square table and three chairs.The walls were painted institutional grey.A lamp with a single bulb hung over the table._

_The Colonel shifted in his chair and flipped through his folder.He looked at his colleague, who wore a white lab coat._

_“You’re sure he can’t hurt us?” the Colonel asked._

_“He’ll have his control collar on,” said the man in the lab coat.The man had glasses and neatly trimmed brown hair and a long jaw and a small nose.He was handsome._

_The Colonel nodded, turning pages in the folder.He paused at the psych profile.He raised an eyebrow and read out loud._

_“Abusive.Enjoys inflicting pain.Prone to violence and psychotic breaks.Rebellious but will obey strong authority figures.Narcissist.”_

_The man in the white coat shrugged.“The unlocking process tends to create character defects, but we find the benefits outweigh the costs.Certainly when compared to raising the candidates from infancy.”He coughed, shifting in his chair.“You said the girl was sighted today?”_

_The Colonel nodded.“Near Espanola.A surveillance drone spotted her on a standard sweep.The sensors picked up a surge on NM-76 near her location, which suggests she’s not just some random scav.The file photos are a few years old, but preliminary analysis—”_

_“I’m certain it’s her, Colonel,” said the man in the white coat.“The signature on the Chimayo wormhole was unmistakable.”_

_“If you say so.”_

_The door opened and a soldier ushered in a young man wearing blue jeans and a white polo shirt.The young man had thick, wavy blonde hair, cut shorter in the front and longer in the back.He had the hint of a mustache over his full lips.There was a thin circle of silver metal around his neck._

_Cords of muscle showed in his arms as he pulled out the third chair and sat down.He smiled at the Colonel and the man in the white coat, but the smile barely touched his eyes._

_He had pretty eyes but they were very cold._

_The Colonel glanced at the file folder again and checked the name:Hargrove, William._

_“Thank you for joining us, William,” the Colonel said._

_The young man shrugged and smirked.He pushed the hair back from his eyes and the Colonel noticed the tattoo on his forearm.It was a simple thing, three black numbers reading 019._


	6. The Things You See, Is That Really Me?

The wheels of the bike hummed against the pavement. The world rushed by – orange rock, green scrub, the double yellow of the highway center line. Mike could see buildings up ahead.They were empty shells, low and hunched, all that was left of the town of Espanola.

The wind burned chill against his face and fluttered in his hair. He could smell a crispness in the air, the scent of cold and winter.

But all he really knew was the feel of Eleven pressed against his back, her hands small and soft on his hips, the little puffs of her breath tickling his neck.

It was familiar. A memory stirred in his mind – El sitting on his bike in her blonde wig, watching Main Street roll past with wonder in her eyes.

It was unsettling, like notes of a favorite song played in the wrong key.

_He could have let her die._

Houses drifted past as the highway bent into town. The buildings were far apart here on the outskirts and falling prey to vegetation. Vines wrapped them in green tethers, cracking the masonry and breaking the plaster. Grass and saplings pushed through the pavement. The dark windows watched the bicycle go by and the empty doors said nothing.

Eleven's fingers moved gently to his waist, finding a new grip.

_He could have run away and let the monster kill her. If that was too cowardly, too shameful, he could have waited and done nothing and died beside her. Either way, she'd be dead._

_She was a threat, a mortal danger to his world, and he could have ended it today._

_Instead he saved her._

Mike worked the pedals harder, wanting to punish himself. Soon he took them past the outskirts and they followed the road into the center of town. There were no houses now, instead shops and restaurants, all old, all abandoned, all empty.

The buildings whispered of lives that once were. There was the Sonic burger joint. El Paragua restaurant. A sign proclaiming _Ramon's - we are Espanola's choice for quality rug cleaning_.A sign next to that spoke of _Dos Fuegos Auto Body, the low rider specialists_.

Mike pumped his legs, chasing exhaustion as his penance.

Once upon a time, people had come to Vargas shopping center. They'd done their hair at Trend beauty salon, picked up groceries at Smith's, tried the new PlayStation at GameSpot. They were gone now, dead and gone.

The girl clinging to Mike's waist had seen to that.

_He'd saved her._

Her hands on his waist felt just like El's.

Mike and El had ridden together a hundred times back in Hawkins. Even after she learned to ride a bike they still went together, Mike pedaling, El behind him, holding him.She loved to feel the wind in her face as she watched the world go by. She loved to press against him, loved being with him in a moment of joy, feeling closeness and warmth.

Sometimes El would let him go and balance on the companion seat, letting her arms open as she closed her eyes. She told him once it made her feel free, drifting in darkness, knowing nothing but the wind.

Mike's heart knotted when Eleven — dark, angry, hateful Eleven — did it too.

He'd looked back anxiously, that first time Eleven let go of him on the road to Los Alamos. He thought she'd lost her balance, or perhaps she'd panicked and was about to leap clear.

But when he looked back, Eleven had her eyes closed, her arms spread wide like wings, a bird soaring on the wind. In that moment, the lines of her face softened, the anger smoothed away, and the constant sense of high-strung tension was gone. In that moment, Eleven seemed at peace.

In that moment, she looked like El.

_The demogorgon attacked and all Mike knew was that he couldn't let her die. She was a twisted shadow of El but El was dead and this dark Eleven was all he had left._

_And he couldn't let her go_.

He was laboring now, lungs on fire as he pushed the bike harder.Eleven’s grip tightened as they picked up speed.

They flashed under broken stop lights, weaved around potholes and rubbish in the road. The unruly sprawl of buildings thinned as they left the center of Espanola behind.

This had been a town once but now it was a mausoleum. Mike wanted to leave it behind, leave behind these sad monuments to people long dead, people dead like his love—

"Mike!" Eleven gasped.

He blinked, coming out of his head and back into the world.

"You're going too fast," she said.

Mike slowed his legs, easing down.He saw that his knuckles were white on the handlebars.He relaxed his grip, letting the bike coast and find an easier pace.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

_She was the reason El was dead._

He felt cold inside, a chill in his heart mirroring the frigid air on his skin. The burning in his exhausted lungs was nothing next to the anguish twisting his soul.

The girl's small hands on his waist felt like a betrayal.

"I'm fine," he said.

The sun kissed the horizon and they left Espanola behind. Mike pedaled the little bike into the hills as the bright colors of the landscape faded to grey. Night approached and Mike prayed that it would swallow him forever.

* * *

They stopped on a lonely stretch of highway not far from the town.Fields of thick scrub and small, twisted trees stretched off in every direction.The dying light cast long shadows on the earth.There was no sound but the wind.

“There’s good cover here,” Eleven said.“We can go away from the road and bed down under the bushes.No one will see us.”

Mike walked the bike behind her as she led them off into the brush.They threaded carefully through the bramble, wary of the small cacti that dotted the ground.After the highway was some distance behind them, Eleven called a halt near a small stand of trees.Mike could dimly make out the road through a gap in the bushes, but they’d be invisible to passerby once they crouched down.

“This is good enough,” said Eleven.“We can see the road but no one can see us.Start unpacking.”

Her order was curt, dismissive, but Mike did as she said.

“We can’t have a fire tonight,” she continued.“It would be seen for miles.My powers are still weak and I don’t want to risk meeting another demogorgon.”

“It will be cold,” Mike warned.He thought longingly of the survivor’s house with its electricity and central heating.It seemed like a paradise now, a lost Eden they’d been denied.

“No fire,” Eleven repeated.“I mean it, Mike.”

“I understand.I wasn’t arguing, just pointing it out.I don’t want to take on another demogorgon either.”

They settled in for the night.Mike pulled blankets from the saddlebags and spread them on the ground.He made sandwiches of meat and cheese and fresh bread they’d plundered from the survivor’s pantry.He and Eleven ate in silence, listening to the noises of the night as the moon climbed in the sky.

“How are your fingers?” Eleven asked after a while.Mike was surprised.The girl wasn’t much for talking, certainly not small talk over dinner.Still, she’d done the same thing last night, awkwardly venturing conversation as if his silence unsettled her.

“They’re okay,” he said.“The swelling’s going down.I guess they make some things difficult, like when I was making the sandwiches.”He shrugged.“Serves me right for breaking them… but like you said, I’m no good at hurting anything else.”

He wasn’t sure why he said the words.He only knew he wanted to needle her, throw her statements back in her face, remind her that she was cruel.

Eleven didn’t answer.She slowly chewed her sandwich, not looking at him.

“I don’t know,” she said at last.“You did all right today.”

Now it was his turn to be quiet.He thought about the events of the afternoon, the way he’d saved her and she’d saved him.

It was bitter to think that he owed his life to this girl.

“Thanks, by the way,” he found himself saying.“That demogorgon was about to kill me.If you hadn’t...”His voice trailed away.“Well, anyway, thanks.”

She looked at him then and in the dark her expression was unreadable.Then she shrugged.

When they finished the sandwiches, Eleven stood and fished a roll of toilet paper from the saddle bags.“Stay here,” she told Mike.“Don’t try to run.You know I can find you.”

“I know.”

“And you promised.”

He nodded.“I promised.”

She walked into the brush, away from the road, and in a moment she was out of sight.Mike looked up, his eyes tracing the familiar stars.This was a different universe – Eleven’s universe – but the sky was still the same.

She’d saved his life.Of course it wasn’t something she’d done selflessly.She saved him because she needed him.She needed him to tend her wound and keep it from infection.She needed him on cold nights like tonight, when another person’s body heat was the difference between life and death.

No, Eleven didn’t do anything selflessly.

Mike peered into the night.She’d been gone for a while now.He shifted nervously.Eleven had told him to stay, but it really shouldn’t be taking her this long.

He wondered what might be out in the dark just beyond his vision.Demogorgons?Mind Flayers?Maybe something more prosaic, like wolves.Were there wolves in New Mexico?He didn’t know.

There were wolves in the Rocky Mountains.Maybe the wolves came down from the Rockies after all the people died?

Coyotes.He was pretty sure there were coyotes.

She’d really been gone a long time.

Mike stood and looked back at the road.There was no one there.

After an agonizing moment listening to the sound of absolutely nothing, he crept over to the saddlebags and pulled out a flashlight.He left it off but gripped it tightly as he headed into the brush after Eleven.

He tried to find a trail, but the earth was too hard packed to take a footprint.It was too dark to see a trail anyway.Mike walked slowly, wincing at every crunch of dry grass, every crack of a twig.

“Eleven,” he whispered.

Nothing.

He kept walking.She couldn’t have gone that far.Yes, she was bashful about a perfectly normal human function, but she was smart enough to stay close to camp.

“Eleven,” he whispered again.

This time he heard something, just at the limit of his senses.

It was a scraping sound and something like... whimpering.

He followed it, heart pounding, trying to move fast but stay quiet.If it was another demogorgon, surprise would be his only chance.As the sound got closer, he heard something new, a faint metallic clink.He was almost on it.He peered around a stand of juniper and froze.

There was a small clearing in the brush.Lying in the center of it was a deer — a young buck with a small crown of antlers.The creature was barely moving, only the rise and fall of its chest proving it was alive.It was scrawny, ribs showing clearly through its hide even in the moonlit darkness.Streaks of blood dotted its muzzle and flecked its nostrils.

A metal trap, toothy and rusted, was clamped around its hind leg.

Eleven was kneeling next to it.

One look told Mike that the buck was too far gone to save.Who knew how long it had been here, thirsty and suffering, victim of a trap that would never be checked?The creature looked at Eleven with frightened eyes, waiting helplessly, its strength long since sapped away.

Mike stepped forward, about to call Eleven’s name, but he froze again as she lifted her hand.She held it over the deer as she gathered the power inside her.She took a deep breath and spread her fingers and there was a sudden snap.The buck’s head jerked.Its body went limp.The creature lay still, eyes staring sightlessly into the darkness.

As Mike watched, Eleven reached out her hand and gently stroked the deer’s head, as if trying to soothe it.Her shoulders shook.

She was crying.

Her fingers were small and white against the deer’s brown fur.They touched the buck so delicately, like she was afraid it would break.

“Eleven?” Mike said softly and she gasped in surprise.

Before he could say anything else, her hand shot toward him and he was cartwheeling through the air.The stars and the ground spun in his vision and then the earth raced at him.He reached out desperately to break his fall and gasped at the stab of pain in his broken fingers.He was still lying on the ground, groaning, when Eleven reached him.

“I told you to stay there!” she screamed.“I told you not to run!”

“I wasn’t running!” he gasped, trying to scramble to his feet, but Eleven put a foot on his chest and shoved him back to the ground.

“I told you to stay!” she screamed again.

“I was worried!” he shouted.“You were gone so long, I thought something had happened!Seriously, I wasn’t trying to run, I was just...”His voice trailed away.He waved at the clearing, his gesture taking in the trap, the dead buck, the girl standing over him.

“I was worried,” he said again.

Eleven angrily wiped tears from her eyes.“Don’t ever disobey me again, Mike.You promised.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She glared at him for a moment but stepped away.Mike clambered to his feet.

“Eleven,” he began, but she turned on her heel and stalked out of the clearing.She didn’t look back.

* * *

At the campsite, she wouldn’t look at him.They were both quiet, Mike preparing their blankets for the night, Eleven sitting cross-legged and staring into the darkness.

“We should get some sleep,” he said at last.“And we’ll need to bundle up.It’s going to be cold.”

She didn’t say anything but pulled the leather cord from her pocket.Mike put his hands behind his back and she tied his wrists without a word.

They lay down.Eleven arranged the blankets to cover them and block the wind.They pressed together in the cocoon of wool and cotton, faces so close that their breaths mingled.For a moment, their eyes met.Mike opened his mouth, not sure what to say but wanting to say _something_ , and Eleven quickly turned her back to him.

She lay very still and after a while Mike thought she must be asleep.Then her voice sounded in the darkness, thin and angry.

“Don’t think that makes me weak.”

“What?” he asked.

“The deer,” she said.“Don’t think what you saw with the deer makes me weak.”

He could sense the tension in her, the stiffness in her back, the rigid fix of her neck.“I don’t,” he said.He stared up at the stars.“It was in misery.What you did was kind.Being kind doesn’t make you weak.”

“Yes, it does,” she said.“And I’m not kind.”

They were quiet again.There was nothing but the wind and the clack of the branches.

“I don’t like to see innocent things suffer,” Eleven said.

Mike thought about that for a while.“Then why do you do it?” he asked.He kept his voice gentle, not challenging, genuinely trying to understand.“The things you do, the things your companions do... you’ve made so many innocent people suffer.”

When she spoke, her voice was colder than the frozen air.“No one in the world is innocent, Mike.No one in your world and no one in mine.The people I hurt... they had it coming.”She curled in on herself, pulling the blankets tight.“We all have it coming.”

* * *

The next day dawned cold and bright.With morning they risked a small fire, enough to make hot tea and some oatmeal.Mike felt grimy after a night on the ground and he longed for a shower or even a cold stream to wash in.He decided not to say anything to Eleven – it would seem just a bit precious given the world was utterly ruined.

They discussed the plan for the day as Mike washed their bowls with water from the canteens.They would follow Route 30 south from Espanola for a while, then turn west on NM-502 for the final stretch to Los Alamos.

“We got a late start yesterday and then got held up by the rock wall,” Eleven said, tracing her finger over the map.“But if we set a good pace today, we should be there some time this afternoon.”

They didn’t talk about the night before.Eleven seemed to look at everything but Mike’s eyes.

The morning ride was mostly downhill, fast and easy.Mike watched the red cliffs and the green and yellow brush slide by.He was struck by the beauty of the place.Whenever he’d thought of deserts before, he always pictured sand dunes, plains of barren emptiness stretching to the horizon.New Mexico was a desert but it was full of life.There were vast stretches of piñon and juniper, spruce and aspens.Wildflowers dotted the landscape in purple and gold.

Always off to his left were the lazy rolling waters of the Rio Grande.This far north it was shallow and slow-moving, but even so its banks were painted with lush greenery.Shortly before noon, he and Eleven stopped to fill their canteens in the river and splash bracing cold water on their faces.

As the morning wore on and turned to afternoon, the road took them back up into the hills.Mike struggled sometimes with the grade, and one stretch was so steep they had to dismount so he could walk the bike.After a while they finally topped the plateau and the going was easier.Now and then they passed an abandoned farm or the rusted hulk of an auto on the side of the road.Otherwise it was just the two of them and the wide-open world.

All the while they rode, Eleven’s hands were gentle on Mike’s waist and he could hear her soft breath in his ear.

His thoughts were a jumble of confusion.No matter how he tried, he couldn’t reconcile the pieces of the girl who sat behind him.

He saw the deer’s neck snapping, again and again.It was a mercy to a creature in misery.In his mind, he saw this twisted girl who destroyed a world stroking the animal’s face and weeping.

Now he was bringing her to Los Alamos so she could destroy another world.

They reached the town in the early afternoon.From a distance it was like any other they’d seen, a cluster of buildings abandoned and forgotten.As they got closer, gliding down from the top of the plateau, Mike saw hints of life.Some of the streets were clean and tidy, their pavement free of potholes.He could see patches of concrete in the town center that were bare of greenery.

South, at the end of a spur off the main highway, there was a sturdy chain-link fence.Beyond it a cluster of buildings gleamed white in the desert sun.

It was the Los Alamos National Laboratory and by all appearances it was still alive.

“We have to be careful,” Eleven murmured.Mike nodded.

They stopped at the top of a hill on the outskirts of town.The buildings here were crumbled and overgrown with vines, but it was a good vantage point to survey the area.Mike leaned the bike against a decaying lamp post and grabbed a pair of binoculars from the saddle bags.He and Eleven walked down the street, passing a dilapidated theater and a four-story building that had once been a department store.Beyond that was a jumbled pile of concrete and paving that offered more elevation and a better view.

They climbed to the top of the concrete pile and Mike brought the binoculars to his eyes.

“Where did you get those?” Eleven asked.

“The survivor’s house.You told me to take whatever was useful.This seemed useful.”

He looked through the lenses.In moments he found the town center and confirmed his suspicions – the buildings weren’t pristine, but someone was taking care of them.The maintained section was clustered around a government building that Mike guessed was the old city hall.There was a scattering of shops, a few restaurants, some houses and apartment blocks.On the edge of the maintained zone was a hospital, a sign on the roof declaring it Los Alamos Presbyterian.

“Someone definitely lives here,” Mike muttered.“I don’t see anyone on the street though.”

“They’re probably working in the fields right now,” said Eleven.“The Normals grow crops and ranch cattle outside their towns, but at night they cluster together for protection.Usually it’s near one of the old government buildings.”

“You’ve seen places like this before?”

She regarded him for a moment.“Mike, I’ve _ruled_ places like this before.”

“Right.”He coughed, not sure what else to say.He turned his gaze to the south.“Um, now for the Lab—“

He stopped abruptly.If the town seemed devoid of life, there was certainly activity at the Lab.He saw jeeps and humvees shuttling between the gleaming white buildings.Soldiers in tan fatigues strolled about and there were armed guards posted at the gate.

“I think it’s safe to say that place is up and running,” he muttered.He slowly surveyed it.There were signs warning of an electrified fence, a logo for the Los Alamos National Laboratory, and a brightly painted insignia on a building that looked to be a barracks.

“They’re military,” he said.“Looks like US Army.I think I recognize that insignia, it’s... the 10th Mountain Division.”He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.“They’re supposed to be based out of New York.What in the world are they doing way out here?”

Eleven looked at him, surprised.“Were you in the military?”

Mike shrugged, a little embarrassed.“No, I just read a lot.Probably too much.I’m that guy who would rather read a book called _The Joy of Swimming_ then actually, you know, go swimming.”

He stared through the binoculars, carefully scanning each building.

“I don’t know how to swim,” Eleven murmured.

“You don’t?”

“No.I... don’t like the water.”

Mike thought of the stories El had told him, stories of the Tank and the slimy wetness of the Void.He didn’t say anything, just nodded.

“Let me see,” Eleven said, holding out her hand.Mike passed over the binoculars.

After a while, she spoke and there was certainty in her voice.“This is it.It’s another Lab… and I’m certain they have a Gate.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I just know.I can feel it.”

“So what are you thinking?”Mike asked.“I mean, we can’t just go charging in there.Those guards at the gate are heavily armed.The place is swarming with troops.Even with your powers at full strength I doubt you could take all of them.”

“No,” she agreed.“We need to do this quietly.We should rest for now.We’ll come back at night and see what their patterns are, when they change the guards.We’ll watch the buildings and figure out where the Gate is.Once we know more, we can make a plan—”

She stopped as footsteps crunched on broken pavement behind them.They turned.A figure stepped onto the street from the shadowed interior of the old theater.

It was a young man, well-built and handsome.He walked casually and puffed on a cigarette.His hair was blonde and curly, long in the back and shorter in the front.He wore blue jeans, a plain white t-shirt and a denim jacket.

He had pretty eyes.

“Hi,” the young man smiled.“I’m glad you’re finally here.”

Mike and Eleven watched him warily.

“The drones spotted you, in case you’re wondering.”There was a tone in the young man’s voice, the hint of a laugh, as if everything amused him.That tone and the relaxed, arrogant stance were so terribly familiar...

“Billy,” Mike said, his voice almost a whisper.

The young man frowned.Eleven shot Mike a startled look.

“Do I know you?” the young man asked.

“I—I’m not sure,” said Mike.“I don’t think so.I mean, I don’t know _you_ , but I knew someone like you, once.”

”Yeah? What happened to him?”

”He... died.”

“Too bad for him,” the young man smirked.

“But I think your name is... Billy Hargrove?”

The young man puffed on his cigarette.“Wow, I gotta tell you, not many people call me _that_.Not in a long time.”He pushed up the sleeve of his denim jacket, still smirking.There was a tattoo there.Mike’s heart sank.

It was just like Eleven’s.

The young man’s grin was sinister, the grin of a serial killer.“Most people call me Nineteen.”

“He’s a Talent,” Eleven said, shocked.

Nineteen pushed his sleeve back down.“Just like you, am I right, baby?I don’t know who this guy is but I know who you are... _Eleven_.”

“How do you know my name?” she demanded.

“Oh baby, I work for them and they have ways, you know?”Nineteen took a long drag on his cigarette, letting the end brighten in a rich orange glow until he flicked it away.“They have their ways.”

Eleven frowned.“I don’t understand.Your number says you came after me... but you’re older.How is that possible?”

Nineteen smirked again, that insufferable smirk Mike had hated even back in his own world.

“Well baby, I don’t get all the science stuff, but they tell me it’s a different process.They don’t have to start with people when they’re young, not like they did with you.But let me tell you... it fucks with your head.You know?It really fucks with your head.”

The young man’s smile faded.There was something about his eyes then that Mike thought looked... hollow.“Whatever they did, it makes you... I don’t know.It’s like you’re outside yourself looking in.You know?You feel like you have to do things and you really don’t want to but you have to because it makes you feel better...”His voice trailed away as he drifted in his thoughts.

“You should meet Harrington,” Nineteen muttered, half to himself.“He’s my friend, you know, but that guy’s on the edge... I mean, he’s way out there on the _edge_...”

Mike and Eleven exchanged worried glances.Nineteen blinked back to himself.He smiled again.

“This isn’t your problem,” he said.“All you need to know is they sent me for you.”

“Them?” said Mike.“The people in the Lab?”

Nineteen nodded.

“Are we supposed to go with you?” Mike asked.

Eleven laid a hand on his arm.“Mike...” she murmured, looking at Nineteen with narrowed eyes.

The young man’s smile widened again into that devilish grin.

Flame kindled in his hands, born of nothing, fueled by nothing.Nineteen curled his fingers and the fire blazed over his clenched fists.

“Oh no,” said the young man who was once Billy Hargrove.“You’re not supposed to go anywhere.Not ever again.”


	7. The Differences Between Us

Fire bloomed in the young man's fists. Eleven pushed Mike behind her and gathered power in her mind.

"You may know my name," she said to Nineteen, "but they clearly didn't tell you anything about me."

She lanced out, piercing the young man's skull with her power and wrapping it around his brain. It was her favorite way to kill humans – quick, clean and impossible to stop. Once the constriction started, they couldn't even move. She squeezed.

Nothing happened.

Nineteen smiled. He tapped his neck with a blazing finger. A silver torc glittered there, tiny lights on it shining in green and red and purple.

"I don't have to know anything about you," he smirked. "All I have to know is that you burn."

Flame erupted from his fists, flashing across the street at her. Eleven released her useless hold on his mind and raised a shield, blocking the fire away to either side. Even through the cover of her mental barrier, the heat was intense. She staggered back a step, Mike cowering behind her.

"What's going on?" the black-haired boy yelled. "Squeeze his brain! Knock him out the way you did to me!"

"I can't," Eleven rasped, gritting her teeth as Nineteen's flames battered her shield. "He's wearing some kind of blocker!"

"A blocker?" Mike stared over her shoulder, wide-eyed. "That's a thing? Holy shit!"

"It's how they controlled us in the Lab," she snarled. "You can’t experiment on someone who can kill you with a thought. So they found ways to protect themselves."

She stepped back a few more paces as the fire intensified. "He's really strong," she gasped.

Mentally she berated herself. She'd known a second Lab would have defenses, but it had never occurred to her that they’d include a Talent. Even worse, a Talent wearing a blocker that made her own powers useless.

Mike threw up an arm, shielding his eyes from the glare of the fire. He scanned the street. "Okay, so you can't use your power on him. Can you use it on other things?"

Of course. Eleven berated herself again. Between the wound in her leg and the shock of seeing another Talent, she just wasn’t thinking clearly. She couldn't hurt Nineteen directly, but...

"Get ready to move – that building over there," she said, nodding at the four-story shell of the old department store.

"Come on, baby!" Nineteen called. He was hidden by the wall of flame but the smirk in his voice was unmistakable. Eleven thought she'd give just about anything to rub his face in the dirt and wipe that smugness away.

She cautiously siphoned power from her shield and gathered it in her mind. The fire and heat crept closer.

"You can't hurt me!" Nineteen jeered. "But I can hurt you! Come on, don't make this hard. You don't have to be such a bi—"

Eleven wrapped her power around a rusty old Buick and hurled it across the street. Nineteen gasped and dove for the ground. The big car missed him by inches, crashing through a storefront in an explosion of glass and plaster.

The flames died.

"Now!" Eleven shouted. "Go! Go!"

She expected Mike to run and was surprised when he grabbed her by the waist. The boy looped her arm over his shoulder, pulling the weight off her injured leg.

"Come on," he said.

They made their way across the street, Eleven clutching his shoulder and hobbling as best she could. The lanky boy was surprisingly strong. They were inside the department store by the time Nineteen clambered to his feet.

"Nice trick, princess!" the young man called. "But you're just making me angry now!"

The inside of the store was a ruin. The second floor had collapsed sometime in the past, making a cavernous space like a cathedral. Escalators jutted from the ground, leading to nowhere. Shattered mannequins and broken clothes racks mixed with brick and rotting drywall. The floors far above were somehow still in place, stocked with treasures of the past now well out of reach.

"Over here," Mike said, helping Eleven to an old display case.They ducked behind it, gasping for breath. Eleven thought they were hidden from the street, but she couldn't be sure.

She heard the crunch of footsteps as Nineteen walked through the rubble.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," the young man called, a laugh in his voice. "Don't make this hard, baby! Come on, now — olley olley oxen free!"

Eleven clenched her fists. Nineteen's voice just _grated_. Even if he wasn't trying to kill her, she'd want this smug bastard dead.

There was more crunching of rubble.

"Tell you what," Nineteen said. "If you make this easy, I won't hurt the twerp." He paused, waiting for an answer. "I saw the collar he's wearing. That means he's your property, right? It looked like you were trying to protect him. If you come out where I can see you, I'll let him go."

The silence stretched and Nineteen waited. "Okay, I admit that was a long shot," he said."You're not the sacrificing kind, are you? But that’s okay.There’s not too many places you could be hiding in here. In fact, I'm pretty sure you're right – there!"

Eleven heard a crackle of flame, felt a rush of blazing heat, and snapped up her shield. Fire licked around the display case, sending Mike scrambling behind her as she got to her feet.

Nineteen laughed. "See! I knew you were there! I was always good at hide-and-seek." He pushed more power into the fire, turning it into a great raging wall, forcing Eleven and Mike backward.

Eleven funneled off some of her power, coiled it around an empty clothes rack, and whipped the metal frame at Nineteen. The young man snapped a hand toward it and a burst of fire pushed it away.

"You'll have to do better than that," he sneered. "But I bet you're running low on the juice, aren't you? I bet you can't throw another car without burning yourself out, am I right?"

Eleven answered him with a rain of bricks. Nineteen batted them away with heat and flame.

"You're wasting your time, baby," he said. "What’s worse, you're wasting mine."

Mike leaned close to Eleven, his lips against her ear. "The wall," he whispered.

"What?" she hissed.

"The wall – the exposed one there behind him. Do you see those metal girders with the discoloration?"

Eleven couldn’t believe it. Here she was fighting to save both their lives and Mike was studying the architecture. "So?" she snapped. "So what?"

"So that's metal fatigue. If you use your power to bend those girders, I think you can collapse this building on his head. Can you shield us from the debris?"

Eleven's eyes went from the girders to Nineteen to the floors far above. Her heart beat faster. If Mike was right, they could get out of this yet.

"I think I can do it," she murmured. "Get ready."

The heat from the flames was unbearable, the flickering tongues of fire turning from orange to yellow to white. "Okay baby, enough's enough," Nineteen said. "This has been fun, but it ends now."

"Yes," Eleven told him. "It does."

She tapped deep into her power, pulling as much away from her shield as she dared. The iron bands of her will coiled around the girders like a python.

Then she _pulled_.

An anguished scream of metal echoed through the building.The girders bowed inward. A string of snaps sounded in the wall like a long chain of firecrackers.

Nineteen hesitated. He looked back as the girders bent double and the wall _trembled_.

The entire building groaned.

"Okay,” Mike murmured.“Time to go.”He looped Eleven’s arm over his shoulders, pulling at her, but she was so focused on the shield and the cracking wall that she didn’t move.Little bits of wood and plaster pattered on the ground around them.

"Seriously,” said Mike. “Time to go!” In one quick movement he scooped her up in his arms and started for the street.

The wall exploded inward. There was a deafening roar as the floors above twisted, ripped, and then collapsed in a shower of steel and concrete. Nineteen screamed and dropped to his knees.Flames roared up around him, engulfing him in a bonfire. Debris rained down on the blaze and he disappeared.

Eleven released her hold on the building and poured all her power into a shield. A hailstorm of wood and brick and metal pounded the barrier. Dust billowed up, blinding her. All she knew then was Mike's strong, slender arms holding her against his chest.Her mind jolted with every piece of rubble that slammed into the shield.

She was vaguely aware of a high-pitched noise ringing in her ears.

It was her. She was screaming.

Then there was light, the dust spilled away all around her, and she was out in the street, cradled in Mike's arms. Behind them, the old department store was a great tumbled heap of rubble. Twisted pyramids and bent spires jutted from the mass of stone.

Eleven dropped her shield, gasping as she surveyed the wreckage.

"What do you think of that, _baby_?" she shouted.

"Good job," Mike told her, gently setting her back on her feet. "But you can bet the people at the Lab saw that thing collapse. They'll be coming, so we’d better—"

He stopped abruptly and his eyes widened. Eleven followed his gaze.

Fire flickered up from the rubble, right where they'd last seen Nineteen.

"Oh shit," Mike whispered.

"He – he couldn't have survived that," Eleven breathed. But the flames were growing bigger. The rubble shifted.

"He must have created some kind of updraft," Mike said. "Made a pocket to protect himself from the debris. And now he's burning his way out."

"He can do that?" Eleven said.

"I don’t know – but he damn sure did something."

Eleven stared at the burning wreckage. "I – I think we'd better get out of here," she said. "Where's the bicycle?"

"Back up the street," said Mike. "Hurry!"

* * *

Eleven watched behind them as Mike peddled. In moments the ruined department store disappeared around a bend in the road. They sped through the outskirts of Los Alamos, minute after minute.There was no sign of Nineteen.

"I didn’t see a car or motorcycle or anything like that," Mike wheezed. "I think he must have been on foot. He won't be able to catch us."

Eleven hoped he was right. They were riding uphill, back the way they came, and Mike was struggling.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Getting tired," he gasped. "But I can make it. At the top of the plateau, there's an exit to Santa Fe. The road there is downhill for miles. We just need to get to it—”

His words died in his throat as plumes of dust rose near the Lab. Three black, hulking vehicles sped through the main gate toward the highway. The things oozed menace, with heavy black grills, oversized tires, and machine guns jutting from the roof.

"They’re sending humvees," Mike said. "Shit."

"Maybe they don't see us," said Eleven.

"Maybe. But I saw two drones overhead. They must know where we are." He peddled harder. "This is going to be tight."

The road kept climbing ahead of them, the great rock wall of the plateau on the left, a gaping precipice on the right. The grade was steep.The bicycle was loaded with gear. Mike was doing his best, but they were practically at a crawl.

The humvees reached the highway. They were far behind but closing fast.

Eleven reached into her mind and let her power flow over the bicycle. Ever so gently she lifted, taking up the weight. Mike's breath quickened as the bike moved faster and then faster still.In seconds they were flashing up the road like they were riding on the flat.

The humvees roared up the highway behind them, still closing the gap.

Blood trickled from Eleven's nose.

"Keep it up!" Mike urged, gasping as he worked the peddles. "We're doing it! We'll make it!"

Eleven knew it was a lie. Even if they made it to the top of the plateau and the downhill run to Santa Fe, they would never outrun the humvees. The things were too fast.

It was hopeless – but Mike kept going anyway.

She watched the boy, seeing the set of his jaw, his heaving lungs, his churning legs. The thought leapt into her mind: _Mike Wheeler didn't quit_. Even when there was no hope, he kept on. You could beat him, you could pound him into the ground, you could make him lose. But he would never just give up. If you were going to beat Mike Wheeler, you would have to earn it.

He was just like Twelve that way.

"Keep going, Mike," she said into his ear. "Whatever happens, keep going."

She looked back down the road. The humvees were close now, the nearest just a few hundred yards away, the other two some distance behind. A soldier stood up in the lead vehicle and took his place at the machine gun. There was a loud crackling as he opened up with the weapon. Bullets zipped past with a high-pitched whine. Eleven heard a new note in Mike's gasps – not exhaustion but fear.

"Keep going!" she shouted. "I'll take care of this!"

She dipped further into her stores of power, bringing up a shield behind the bike. The bullets pinged and cracked as they hit the barrier. Blood flowed from both nostrils now as she held the weight of the bike with one half of her mind and deflected the bullets with the other. It was excruciating, like someone was raking the inside of her brain with iron nails.

Mike kept peddling. The top of the plateau was near, but the lead humvee was barely a hundred yards away. The machine gun was on target now, pouring lead into the shield in an endless barrage.

Mike looked wildly over his shoulder. "They're close! They're going to ram us!"

"No, they won't," Eleven rasped.

In an effort of pure will, she reached out to the humvee with another part of her mind. She was vaguely aware of blood dripping from her ear as she latched onto the steering wheel and yanked it hard. The humvee spun, slamming into the rock wall of the plateau. The driver fought the wheel and the vehicle careened wildly across the road, smashing into the guardrail on the far side.The rusty barrier snapped like dry tinder and the humvee tumbled into the abyss.

"Holy shit!" Mike yelled. "That got them!"

"Keep going," Eleven gasped, feeling light-headed. "There's two more."

She didn't tell him there were more plumes of dust rising from the Lab, more humvees on the way. She didn't tell him her power was draining rapidly and there was barely any left. She didn't tell him it was hopeless.

If Mike Wheeler wouldn't quit, neither would she.

They were at the top of the plateau now, off the grade and racing on the flat.The bike picked up speed. It wasn't enough – the second humvee closed and its machine gun opened fire. Eleven's shield quaked from the impact of a long, rolling burst and she almost gagged. She could taste blood on her lips. She could feel it trickling from her ear and down her neck.

With her mind tangled up in power, she could barely think.The big black grill of the humvee loomed in her vision.Grabbing its steering wheel wouldn’t help here on the plateau, away from the cliffs. There was rough terrain on either side of the road, but the thing’s enormous tires would handle it with ease.

Her brain grabbed at the thought.The tires…

With a sharp burst of power she shredded the big front wheels. The humvee's nose pitched into the road and the rear catapulted up. For a moment the black machine was vertical, doing a headstand on its front grill. Then it teetered over and crashed on its roof, the back tires spinning futilely in the air.

"Nice!" Mike shouted. "We're almost there!" He pointed ahead and she saw an exit off to the right. Beyond it the road wound down the plateau. A white and green sign overhead declared _US-285 South – Santa Fe._

But it didn’t matter. There was a third humvee just a few hundred yards behind them and more coming after that. Eleven was so tired, her ears ringing, stars dancing in front of her eyes. She felt nauseous, like her stomach wanted to climb out of her mouth and run away. She was so drained, so... _empty_.

A soldier stood up in the chasing humvee, grabbed the machine gun, and then he was firing, firing, firing. The shield trembled, wavered.

The bicycle flashed under the green exit sign.They sped down the slope, going so fast that Eleven's already taxed stomach twisted into a knot.

Her shield flickered and dropped for a moment. A bullet cracked on the pavement beside them. She jerked the barrier back to life, fighting down the vomit pushing into her throat. Her strength was gone.She had nothing left to save them.

The humvee stopped.

Another long burst ripped from the machine gun, chopping into her barrier and bringing it down. Eleven felt her power fade to nothing. She couldn't support the bike, and the full weight of it pushed down on the wheels.

Mike whipped them through a bend in the road and the humvee fell out of sight. The boy was gasping, his lungs working like a bellows, his legs pumping like they would never stop. His shirt was soaked with sweat despite the cold.

The road bent back and they could see the humvee again, stopped beneath the exit sign. It was a good five hundred yards behind them now. Shots rang out from the machine gun but fell short.The gun went quiet.

A second humvee pulled up beneath the exit sign, then a third. Soldiers clambered out of the vehicles. They milled about, talking and pointing. None of them stepped on the road to Santa Fe.

"What's going on?" Mike asked. "Why did they stop?Not that I’m complaining."

Eleven looked ahead, her eyes following the winding highway. It rolled down the plateau into a narrow valley dark with trees. The air in the valley was thick with floating motes, like an endless drifting fog of dandelion seeds. The cloud stretched south as far as the eye could see.

Her blood went cold.

She looked back at the soldiers, still standing around their humvees and growing ever smaller as the bicycle raced ahead.The drones hovered above the exit sign and went no further.

Eleven leaned her head against Mike's back, utterly weary.

"I don't know why they stopped," she lied. "Just keep going."

* * *

For a while Eleven didn’t know anything but the whir of the bicycle tires and the winding trail of the yellow center line. She watched that line, hypnotized by the way it spilled forever beneath her. She heard the metronome puffs of Mike's breath.

The nausea had passed. It was a relief to breathe without feeling the rush of bile in her mouth and the insistent knocking of her anguished stomach. More importantly, with the nausea gone, she could finally think.And one thought refused to leave her.

_Mike knew Nineteen._

She turned that around in her mind, replaying Nineteen's words and Mike's actions.She considered the strange knowledge that this lanky, black-haired boy simply shouldn't have. Suspicion twisted inside her.

She’d been foolish.She'd gotten soft, lured in by Mike's gentleness and his surprising courage. How Thirteen would have laughed to see her, his fearsome Eleven, lulled into weakness by a soft-spoken boy and a ride on a bicycle.

"There's an old gas station up ahead," Mike said. "We need to stop. I'm exhausted."

"Yes," Eleven murmured, her eyes narrowing. "Let's stop."

The building stood alone by the side of the road, thick woods spreading out behind it. The pumps in front were cracked and rusted. The sign had tumbled to the ground and the paint on the walls was peeled and flaking, but the structure was surprisingly intact.Even the doors and windows were sound.

Mike led them inside, propping the bike against a rack filled with old cans of motor oil. He groaned, stretching aching muscles after the long ride.

"This should be a good place to stop for the night," he said. "We can pull down the blinds and no one will know we're here. Maybe we’ll even find something useful in all this junk."

Eleven watched him walk among the racks of goods, poking at roadmaps and boxes of detergent and years-old candy bars.

"You knew him," she said coldly.

The ice in her voice made Mike turn. "What?"

"The Talent. Nineteen.You knew him."

"No, I didn't."

"You did," she hissed. "You said his name was Billy and he recognized it."

"Okay, sure, there _was_ a Billy—"

"And he was willing to let you go," she interrupted. "Why was that, Mike? Nineteen said he’d let you go if I gave myself up."

"Come on, Eleven, he never would have—"

She didn’t listen."You've been lying to me, haven't you, Mike?"

She reveled in the fury building inside her. She'd been so weak with this boy, tricked by his healing hands and his gentle touch, and yes, maybe even tricked by his pretty eyes.

"What are you talking about?" he gasped.

"You knew about the Lab, didn’t you?” she snapped. "You knew about the Lab and you knew about Nineteen.You were supposed to bring me here so they could study me, weren't you? You were supposed to make me drain my power so I was an easy target."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" His voice climbed in pitch – the tell of the discovered liar.

"You recognized the soldiers at the Lab!" she shrieked. "You called them the Tenth Mountain Division, remember? How could you possibly know that, Mike?”

“Eleven—”

“How could you know Nineteen? Why was he willing to let you go? There can only be one answer, Mike. _Because you've been here before and you're working with them!"_

He threw his hands in the air. "You're fucking insane, you know that? Let me remind you, it was your idea to come to Los Alamos, not mine!"

Eleven hesitated. That was right… or was it?Was it really? "You – you influenced me," she said uncertainly. "You made me think it was my idea to come here, but it was really yours."

"Really? I influenced you? When did I do that? When you were slamming me into walls and dislocating my shoulders? Maybe I _influenced you_ when you made me kiss your fucking feet!"

She shook her head. She was weak and tired and it was so hard to think. "But – but you knew Nineteen—"

"I knew Billy Hargrove!" Mike yelled. He groaned, running his hands through his long, shaggy hair. "Look, there was someone from my world who was like Nineteen, the same way there are people who are like Thirteen and Fourteen and Fifteen. Our worlds are parallel, remember? And the people we meet in your world are counterparts of the people in mine."

Eleven rubbed her forehead. Mike was good with words – much better than she was – and he was confusing her. She clutched at her suspicions, wanting to feel rage again, wanting to feel hate, but her thoughts were like smoke and they kept slipping away.

Mike waved his hand angrily. "In my world, Nineteen is – was – a guy named Billy Hargrove. He was an awful person, a bully and a racist. He abused his stepsister and beat people up.The guy was a real piece of shit." The boy shrugged. "He's dead now.But that's how I recognized Nineteen – and by the look of things that guy is as bad as Billy ever was."

Even through the fog in Eleven’s mind, Mike’s words made sense.She rubbed her eyes, smearing the liner, but she was too tired to care. She felt her anger draining away and her suspicions along with it.

Of course, Mike didn't have anything to do with the Lab. The idea was ludicrous.She’d been so exhausted and drained and frightened that she’d let her paranoia get the better of her.

And yet...

"Why was he willing to let you go?" she asked.

Mike laughed but there wasn't any humor in it. "Are you serious? He wasn't going to _let me_ _go_. Come on, Eleven, he was clearly lying."

"But—"

"Eleven! _I'm the guy who showed you how to drop the building on him._ Remember? So for the love of god, would you give me a fucking break?"

"Okay," she said, shaking her head wearily. She rubbed her forehead again. "Okay. You're right, Mike. You're right."

But he was fuming now. "I can't fucking believe you. After all the shit we've been through together, after everything I've done, you accuse me of that bullshit?”

"That's enough, Mike," she snapped. "I said you were right."

"Well whoopty-fucking-do! How about that, ladies and gentlemen! The Wicked Witch of the West finally pulls the broomstick out of her ass long enough to admit she was wrong!"

Eleven grit her teeth. "I said that's enough, Mike. Don't forget who's in charge here."

"How could I forget?" he shouted, so loudly she took a step back. "How could I forget who's in charge? You drive it home every fucking day! I can't ever forget that this is _your_ shitty world and _you're_ in charge!"

"Mike—"

"No! You listen to me! I hate this fucking place. Do you realize what kind of Wonderland you and your friends created here? You created a world where _a racist fuck like Billy Hargrove has powers._ Seriously, Billy Hargrove has superpowers! He's got pyrokinesis! He's like the Human Torch, running around going _Flame on!_ Billy fucking Hargrove!"

"Mike—"

"I can't forget, Eleven! I can't forget that this was a world once, a world just like mine, and _you destroyed it_ , you and your friends! You turned it into a hellhole! You turned it into _nothing_!”He took a deep breath, fighting for control, and suddenly he clenched his fists and yelled, “All those people are dead!”

He kept on, battering her with his anger. His words congealed into a roar that she couldn’t follow.All she knew was that his voice cut and it stabbed and it brutalized.She reeled from the onslaught.

He didn’t understand.Why wouldn’t he understand?As Mike shouted, the air around her seemed to crack, fracturing into pieces, or maybe that was all inside her head.Whatever it was, it was too much.Something inside her broke.

"They deserved it!" she screamed. "They deserved it! They deserved it!"

"Who?" Mike bellowed in her face and she took another step back. "Who deserved it? Those people in Chimayo?Those people in Espanola and Los Alamos? What did they ever do to you?"

She shook her head. Mike was confusing her. He had to stop confusing her.

"Look around you, Eleven!" he roared. "This world is _dead_. The people are _dead_. Haven't you done enough? _When is it enough?"_

He kept pounding her.He was merciless.

"Will destroying my world be enough, Eleven?Will killing my people be enough? _Will that finally make up for what those men did to you?"_

She wanted to scream. She wanted Mike to stop but he wouldn't stop.Her rage boiled over.

She lashed out with her powers.

The fingers of Mike's right hand bent up ever so slightly.

That was all.

Eleven gasped. She was empty. Her battery was drained – drained by the rock wall, drained by the demogorgons, drained by Nineteen. Escaping the humvees had taken everything she had left. She was absolutely, utterly, completely powerless.

Just like in the Lab.

Mike stared at her, stunned.

Fear blossomed inside her. She backed away from him until she felt a wall of shelves behind her.She could go no further. She looked side to side, desperate, but there was nowhere to run.

Eleven’s throat tightened as she realized she was powerless and alone with a boy she'd tortured for _days_. She’d abused him, tormented him, wracked his body with pain.She’d made him crawl and kiss her feet and then say _Thank you._

Her powers were gone and now Mike Wheeler could punish her for everything she'd ever done to him.

She didn't have a weapon; she'd left the survivor's gun behind. With the wound in her leg, she couldn't even run. Mike was going to punish her and there was nothing she could do.Fear swept over her, fear like she hadn’t felt since her days in the Lab.

"Don't hurt me," she blurted.

Was that anger she saw in Mike’s face? Was it hate?She swallowed hard. "Please don't hurt me."

Then she realized Mike’s expression was... shock. He shook his head."What are you talking about?I’m not going to hurt you."

They stared at each other. The shock drained from Mike's face, replaced by something else. She didn't know what to make of it. Was he sad? She thought there was sadness there, yes, but other things too. 

Kindness. Sympathy.

Pity.

She knew that look now.It was the look on her own face when she found the deer.

Mike raised a hand and she flinched away. He pulled a container from the shelf behind her. It was a small white bottle.The label said _Lighter Fluid._

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly. He held up the bottle, cleared his throat. "We can get a little fire going in that office back there. There are some tarps on that rack.If we hang them over the windows, no one will see the flames. It will have to be a small fire though.We don't want the smoke to choke us."

Eleven didn't say anything. Mike stared at her for a moment and then turned toward the office. She watched him, this extraordinary boy she couldn't understand.

The words burst from her. "Twelve would have hurt me."

He stopped, looked back. "What?"

"If I tried to use my powers on Twelve and failed... he would have hurt me."

Mike’s expression was unreadable.

"I'm not Twelve."

* * *

He cooked pasta that evening over their little fire. They ate quietly.Mike ventured small talk now and then.He speculated about the soldiers from the Lab and why they’d stopped at the exit sign.Eleven said little.

They didn’t mention the argument.

Eleven stared into the flames, wondering about this strange boy who wasn't Twelve.

After dinner, Mike spread their blankets out by the embers of the fire. He pulled open his bedroll. Eleven cleared her throat; he turned to her and stiffened.

She held his leather cord in her hands.

"Are you serious?" he said.

She shifted awkwardly."Mike, I need you to..." Her voice died and she held out the cord.

His eyes widened. "Are you fucking kidding me? I told you I wouldn't hurt you! Why do I have to wear that thing?"

She waved her hands helplessly. "Mike, you might...When we're sleeping...It would be easier for you to... hurt me. Today I could have fought, I could have run—"

"With a gunshot wound in your leg? Really? And what were you going to fight with, harsh language?"

Eleven closed her eyes. She felt so helpless, in a way she hadn't since she'd escaped the Lab so long ago.When she opened her eyes, they were wet with unshed tears. "Mike, _please_."

He scowled and clenched his fists. He looked skyward, as if appealing for aid. Then he turned around and crossed his hands behind his back.

"Goddammit," he said.

Eleven tied his wrists gently, not lashing the cord too tight. She stared at his bound hands, running a finger over the leather. Then she leaned forward until her lips were next to his ear and she whispered, "Thank you."

She wasn't sure, but she thought it might be the first time she'd ever said those words.

It was certainly the first time she'd ever meant them.


End file.
